Come Back to Me
by kaitiebee89
Summary: "And when the pieces came together, when time unfroze itself and he realized with a gut wrenching, sinking feeling what had happened—what he had just lost—Daryl Dixon felt everything that was holding him in the present disappear in a cloud of blinding rage. 'I see red... everything is red. Everything I see is red.'" Fix-it fic for Coda - follows basic story arc of Season 5.
1. Red

It all happened in fragments that, at first, didn't add up to a single, comprehensible moment. The glint of light off the surgical scissors in Beth's hand. The sound of the gun, a spray of crimson blood in a hall of dingy white. Her body falling to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, so agonizingly slow, hair trailing behind her like a ribbon of sunlight.

And when the pieces came together, when time unfroze itself and he realized with a gut wrenching, sinking feeling what had happened—what he had just lost—Daryl Dixon felt everything that was holding him in the present disappear in a cloud of blinding rage.

 _I see red, everything is red. Everything I see is red._

Long ago, that's what Rick had told Daryl his friend had said. The one named Morgan whom he, Michonne, and Carl had found holed up alone in a town full of booby traps clearing walkers. Having lost the two people in the world who were most precious to him, the man had nothing left to lose but his mind, which apparently he had done with gusto. And when he confessed his misfortunes to Rick, the guilt and sadness practically ripping him a part at the seams, he had repeated that over and over like a mantra.

 _I see red. Everything is red._

At the time, Daryl didn't understand how loss could make a man lose his mind so spectacularly. He himself had seen enough dead and lost enough people even before the world went to shit that he thought he knew all about it. What it meant, what it felt like. How to deal with it or, in his case, how not to. It didn't make sense to him, how someone could let death dig its bony fingers in and control them like that. Even now, when death was less of a distant worry than a permanent guest at the campfire, Daryl knew it was possible to make room for the pain and live with it. He had pitied Morgan, because in the wake of his loss the man hadn't just let death push him over the edge of insanity but had made a home for himself in the free fall.

But he didn't know. Daryl realized in that moment, that excruciating moment where time stood still and the gun cracked with release and her body fell, that he didn't know a damn thing. He had never known pain like the pain he felt at the sight of her bleeding on the hospital linoleum, limp and broken. He had never experienced a loss so great that it gave birth to hurt that felt like a living, breathing animal with sharp teeth and claws inside of his chest, tearing him a part from the inside out.

So he raised his gun and shot without thinking, ignoring the wide-eyed panic on the cop's face and her pleas of _innocent! accident! mistake!_ Because it didn't matter if she'd meant to fire or not, if she was honest or just trying to hold on like the cops they'd taken prisoner had claimed. The woman had stolen something from him that he knew he would never have again, had robbed him of serious piggy backs and kind blue eyes and more time.

The cop's head snapped back as the bullet entered her brain, a small black hole marring the white skin of her forehead and she fell to the ground as well, the look of panic frozen on her face. Distantly he was aware of the people that surrounded him, his family behind and the row of blue clad cops in front of him, of a woman's voice shouting that it was done, over. The air was palpable with their shock and disbelief and he could feel every single pair of eyes watching as he fell to his knees beside Beth. He didn't bother to hold back the hot tears that filled his eyes, letting them stream down his dirty face as a sob unearthed itself from the place deep inside that he kept under lock and key.

He had just found her, finally gotten her back, hadn't gotten to say so much as hello or goodbye or what he really wanted to say, which was that he'd missed her. His body shook with the unfairness of it all.

As far as he knew, no one had bothered to ask Morgan if the red he saw was from anger or sadness. If it was guilt or the thick crimson of blood leaking from his son's neck as he bled out onto an empty street that he saw. But Daryl knew it didn't really matter why or how or what shade of red it was he saw when he closed his eyes. The only thing that mattered was that it was all he could see.

What Morgan said, before?

He got it now.


	2. The In-Between

When Beth opened her eyes, the first and only thing she saw was a vast expanse of clear blue sky. There was nothing else. No sound, no movement. She could not feel the beat of her heart or the weight of her limbs, the brush of clothing on skin. When she took a deep breath hoping to pull some of the bright, cheerful blue into her lungs, she knew she was breathing yet there was no sensation of relief in doing so. And yet she felt very much alive, although she could not say how or why this was.

She did not know how long she lay there—wherever _there_ might be—taking in the glorious flatness of the sky. It could have been minutes or hours, yet she felt no desire to try and move, no itch to turn her head and see if the sky had cocooned itself around her like a marble or if there was ground beneath her feet. There was no rush, no danger, and no fear, so she simply blinked and stared and went through the instinctual motions of breathing.

The first thing she felt was a dull ache that manifested itself on the side of her head just above her ear, intense enough to make her flinch in pain. Of course this timeless peacefulness would be marred by an annoying headache, she thought.

Slowly, however, and without any discernable sign or impetus, her sky-blue world began to accumulate life. A large black bird flew over her head from left to right, sunlight reflecting off of its glossy feathers, and as she followed it with her eyes she realized that not only did she have fingers and toes, but that she could wiggle them. Out of nowhere, a warm summer breeze blew a wavy strand of hair across her cheek as puffy white clouds dotted the sky, trailing after the bird in a lazy chase. As more and more details presented themselves—the smell of fresh cut grass, woodchips, and rusty metal filling her nostrils, the feel of the sun's heat on her skin—Beth began to feel grounded. With it came the need to know where she was and to understand how she had gotten to wherever it was overpowered her earlier apathy.

Gingerly, she began to move. It took longer than she expected—for some reason she couldn't quite remember how to move her limbs, head, and torso in a singular, fluid motion. Her limbs felt limp and rather heavier than she remembered them being and she flopped around for a moment, struggling with the foreign disconnect between her body parts before putting herself in an upright position. For a moment she was almost overcome by a wave of dizziness, her vision taking on a hazy blur that threatened to return her to her back. She was rewarded for her efforts however, as all of the details of her current location came together around her in clear and dazzling focus.

She was neither surprised nor disappointed to find herself sitting on a splintering wooden bench staring at the playground of her old elementary school. The fact that there were dozens of children running around, their childish squeals of play and delight overlapping with the sounds of rubber soles on plastic play equipment had no shock value either. Everything was exactly the way she remembered it being, from the buttery-tan brick building to the multi-colored slides and the position of the sand box and teeter-totters. It felt brighter, though, the colors of every plant and object practically pulsating with a vividness she knew weren't found in real life.

She couldn't remember the last time she had been to the school or visited the playground, but figured it had to have been almost ten years. As she looked around, taking in the scene before her, her eyes were drawn to the swing-set where several children pumped their plump little legs furiously. She smiled, watching as their efforts propelled them higher and higher, their fingers gripping onto the metal chains that anchored them.

One little girl towards the end caught her attention specifically. She wore a fierce look of determination, her miniature facial features all screwed up in concentration as she pumped her legs back and forth, red curls streaming out behind her like a fiery banner. She couldn't have been more than four or five years old. Beth wondered what she was swinging so hard for, and as the distance between her and the ground lengthened she felt worry for the girl's safety grip at her heart.

The older children swinging on either side of her had noticed her fierce swinging as well, and not to be outdone began to push harder off of the ground in an attempt to catch up with her. But the little girl was too far ahead of them, swinging too high and fast to be caught.

Beth wasn't all that surprised when the little girl let go of the chains and jumped from the black rubber seat, though she gripped her own seat so tightly her knuckles cracked. Her eyes and the eyes of the other children traced the child's seemingly suspended arc through the air as she spread her arms like wings and her polka dot dress flew up around her hips to reveal alabaster legs. Beth admired the girl's innocent fearlessness; she was so little to be so brave, too little to know that sometimes bad things happened when you _were_ brave.

The breath lodged itself in her chest at the thought, a bad feeling she couldn't explain crackling through her limbs like electricity.

Beth felt like she watched the girl fly through the air for a long time, though it couldn't have been more than a couple of seconds. A part of her wanted the girl to start flapping her arms and fly off into the bright blue sky; Beth wanted to protect her from the feeling of danger that lurked at the edge of her memory, that she knew existed somewhere even though at present she couldn't see it or remember what it was called. But gravity was winning the battle between the little girl and her flight, sucking her back to the earth and Beth heard the impact of her body as it landed, rolling and tumbling through the grass.

The girl didn't get up right away and Beth made a move to stand and help her, worried that she had hurt herself. But before she could the girl rolled onto her back and sat up, gingerly rubbing one of her elbows. Her fellow swing-mates began to clap and cheer for their red headed friend, too in awe of her flight to be jealous, and Beth smiled with a pride she wasn't sure she deserved to feel at the girl's success.

 _"And how she would feel with all their simple sorrows, and find a simple pleasure in all their joys, remembering her own child life, and the happy summer days."_

Beth's head snapped around towards the voice in disbelief. She wasn't sure where he'd come from, or if he had always been sitting on the bench beside her. But the sight of him clean shaven, in his favorite blue shirt and suspenders, two whole legs filling the hollows of his pants—it was more than enough to make her eyes fill with tears.

"Daddy?"

Her father smiled, the corners of his blue eyes crinkling. "Hey there, Doodlebug,"

Inside her chest a ball of overwhelming elation and relief grew and burst, sending shockwaves through her body that made every fiber of her being buzz with energy. She didn't understand how he was here, but his familiarity was a comfort in so much confusion. With a cry she threw herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck and hugging him as tightly as she could. Hot tears spilled from her eyes and onto his shirt and she felt the rumble of his laughter reverberate through her body.

"I missed you too sweetheart," he said, placing a hand on the back of her head.

Beth cried into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent which would forever be imprinted on her brain as the smell of safety and home. She was unwilling to loosen her grip even as her muscles began to ache from the tremendous effort she was putting into the embrace. After a few minutes of her confused and joyful sobbing, she felt her father do just that however, pulling away and grabbing for her hands. She wiped away the wet trails on her cheeks with the back of her hand first as Hershel continued to smile at her.

"But you're… you're dead," Beth sniffed, her voice thick with tears and mucus. "How are you here? _Why_ are you here? Are you okay?"

Gently Hershel brushed his thumb against her cheek to wipe away an errant tear she had missed in her clumsy attempts at removing them. "Yes, I'm okay," he answered with a chuckle. "Fit as a fiddle. And I'm here because you are, Bethy."

"But where is here?"

Hershel chuckled again and nodded towards the school. "You know where we are. We're at the elementary school."

Beth looked around, taking in the sight of the one story building and chain link fences, the large playground and pine trees that dotted the schoolyard. Yes, it was all familiar, but it still didn't make any sense.

"I don't remember getting here," she said quietly. That was the part that bothered her the most. Everything before she opened her eyes to blue sky was dark, with not even the slightest of hints as to how she had ended up lying on the bench at a place she hadn't been to in years.

Hershel squeezed his youngest daughter's hand and nodded, as if he had expected her to say that. "I know you don't sweetheart, and I know that everything feels a little confusing right now. But I promise that everything is okay. One way or another, everything is going to be just fine."

Beth smiled and her hand squeezed back, trusting her father as she had always done.

Her headache, which she had been successfully ignoring, suddenly became more intense. Gently she rubbed at the spot with two of her fingers, hoping to relieve some of the pressure. Her father watched her do this and she was about to assure him it was nothing when he spoke.

"Do you remember me reading that story to you?" He asked.

Beth looked at him, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What story?"

"Alice in Wonderland," he answered.

Beth connected the first words she heard him speak as the ending from her favorite childhood story and she smiled. "Of course I do! You read it to me every night before I went to sleep."

"That's only because it was the only story you'd let me read to you," Hershel laughed. "I think you were Alice for Halloween three years in a row."

"Four," she whispered with a chuckle, remembering the pretty blue dress her mother had to keep letting out to accommodate her growth, how much she had loved the delicate lace on the white apron tied around her waist. Her parents kept encouraging her to be something else, a black-eared cat or a lasso wielding cowgirl, but she had been adamant. She would be Alice or nothing at all.

"You used to run around the farm looking for rabbit holes to jump down, so sure that one existed on our property your mother and I had a hard time getting you to do your chores or your homework. One day you didn't come back for dinner and I found you out by the barn digging a hole with your mother's garden trowel, crying like your dog just died. Which, at first, I thought based on the hole that maybe something actually _had_ died. But when I asked what you were doing… do you remember what you told me?"

Beth nodded; she knew exactly the day he was referring to. A couple of the popular girls at school—Hannah Jessop and Annie Baker—had liked to call her names and make fun of her small size and big eyes, in addition to mocking the fact that she liked to sing. The pair had been particularly nasty that day, lobbing taunts at her during recess when the lunch parents' backs were turned by widening their eyes with their fingers and following her around singing their names for her in a whiney falsetto. They made her feel so strange, so different when deep down she knew there was nothing wrong with her at all. She had been angry and sad and she just knew that everything would be better if only she could get to Wonderland. Tired of waiting for an entrance to appear, she had begun to dig furiously into the hard, red earth, only stopping when her father's form stood over her blocking out the late afternoon sun.

"I said I was going to dig my own hole to Wonderland. That I was running away and never coming back."

Her father's kind smile eased the embarrassment she felt for being such a dramatic child. "You said you were tired of waiting for the rabbit to find you and lead you away, and that your real friends were waiting for you at the bottom of the hole."

"I wanted to sing to the Cheshire Cat and have tea with the Hatter and the Hare," Beth laughed. "They looked like the kind of group who wouldn't mind that I was so small or that my eyes were too big for my face, or that I'd rather read and make up songs by myself than do stuff other kids liked to do."

She had assured him as she continued to bring up tiny mounds of dirt with her trowel that she would come back and visit them someday, and that she'd bring them all cake that made them grow so they could be giants together. She ignored his assurances that she was beautiful, that it wasn't a crime to sing so prettily.

"Do you remember what I said to you?" Hershel asked after a moment.

Beth stared at her father and fought back the new tears that threatened to spill onto her cheeks. She took a deep breath and nodded.

"You said that you'd miss me if I went away. So terribly that your heart would break and you'd fall to pieces right there beside my rabbit hole."

She remembered how he had sat down beside her, getting dirt all over the nice pants he wore to the vet's office. How he had waited patiently for her to tell him what was really wrong. Most of all, she remembered the way she had crawled into his open arms as soon as he'd offered them, abandoning her digging efforts to be rocked and soothed.

"It was true. I wouldn't have been able to go on without you," he said, a hint of honesty coloring his teasing tone.

"But I didn't leave you, Daddy," Beth sniffed sadly, her smile fading with the gentle memory. "Not then or now. _You_ left me."

She knew it wasn't fair to put that on him. He hadn't so much left as he was ripped away from her by a psychopath. But still, she was angry that he was gone, angry that he hadn't been more careful, that he had put himself in the position to be taken from her in the first place.

Most of all, she was angry that it still hurt so much, his absence like a gaping wound on her skin that wouldn't heal no matter how many times she tried to bandage it.

Hershel sighed, but his face displayed no hurt at her words. "I know, Bethy. And I'm sorry for that. You have to know that I didn't want to go. I didn't want to leave you and your sister."

And she did. Of course she did. She gripped his hand tighter.

A quiet settled over them then as thoughts of his final moments and the overwhelming sadness of their parting filled her mind. She didn't want to think about it, wished that it was something her mind would let her forget. Her headache continued to worsen, the stinging sensation growing stronger. She was faintly aware of a dull throbbing at the back of her head joining the pain in her temple. She winced at the sensation and abandoned her efforts at rubbing the spot, realizing it wasn't doing anything to alleviate the pain. It was strange that her head should hurt so badly when everything around her felt so idyllic, and she began to worry that, despite appearances, something was very, very wrong.

"Daddy?" Beth asked, dropping her hand into her lap. Hershel didn't respond, but when she turned her head to look at him his face was expectant, eyebrows slightly raised to indicate she should continue. "What did you mean before when you said 'one way or another'?"

Her father didn't seem surprised by this question either, though his mouth shifted from a gentle smile into a straight line. He sighed, patting her hand a few times.

"Well, I wasn't sure which way this was going to go at first," he said, an answer that only served to fuel her confusion.

"I don't understand," she said.

Hershel met Beth's gaze and smiled, still amazed at how much she looked like him, how when he looked at her it was his own eyes that stared back.

"Neither do I," he said finally. Though where he found humor and mystery in the truth of this answer, his daughter only found frustration.

"Am I dead?" She asked suddenly, giving voice to the question that had been niggling at her since he had appeared beside her on the bench but had been too afraid to ask.

Her father shook his head. "No Bethy. You're not dead."

"Well, am I dying?"

Hershel frowned, as if he had to think about how to answer the question. He squeezed her hand and said, "Not anymore."

She waited for him to elaborate, but he appeared to be finished. Not wanting to ruin her time with him by pushing for answers he either didn't have or didn't want to share, Beth leaned her head on her father's shoulder.

They watched the children playing for a long time, swarming over the equipment like ants at a picnic, and with her father's hand in hers and the sound of the kids' laughter, the smell of sun and pine surrounding her, she slowly eased herself into a contented state. Maybe none of her questions mattered, and it wasn't important why or how. That her being there was just about sharing this moment with a man she missed more than she would have ever thought possible. She was there, and maybe that was enough for now.

Suddenly, she realized her father was no longer sitting beside her and her hand was lying palm up on her thigh, empty of his hand. She glanced up, her eyes widening with panic.

 _Not again, please God not again. Don't let him leave without saying goodbye._

She spotted him standing just a couple of yards away from where she sat, his hands shoved in the pockets of his pants. But the relief she felt was countered almost immediately by another sharp, stinging pain on the side of her head. She hissed and pressed her fingertips to the spot again, surprised when they were met with something warm and sticky. Her fingers were covered in the red-orange blood oozing from the wound when she pulled them away and she took several ragged breaths, worry and confusion forming a tight knot in her chest.

"Daddy, what's happening to me?" She asked Hershel, holding out her reddened hand as evidence. But the realization that her father was standing because he was leaving hit her again and helped her to momentarily forget about the pounding in her head.

"Where are you going?" She cried, panic creeping into her voice. He couldn't say goodbye yet. She wasn't ready. Jumping to her feet she closed the distance between them quickly, using her clean hand to grasp at the fabric of her father's shirtsleeve.

Hershel reached up with both hands and cupped his daughter's face. The smile on his own was sad but his bright blue eyes twinkled with knowing.

"I have to go now," he said simply, twisting his mouth sympathetically at the single tear that rolled its way down Beth's cheek and onto his thumb.

"Why can't I come with you?" Beth managed to choke out, gripping his shirtsleeve so tightly she was afraid she might rip it clean off.

"Because it isn't time yet."

She was about to ask what exactly it wasn't time for when another wave of throbbing pain washed over her drowning out any thoughts of protesting. Beth's already bloodied hand flew to her head and she was unable to stifle the anguished cry that escaped her lips.

Hershel waited until it passed and her breathing had slowed before leaning forward to gently kiss her on the forehead. Beth closed tear filled eyes as his lips lingered, grasping at his wrist with her stained hand. She opened her eyes when she felt him brush a stray wisp of hair behind her ear and take a step backward out of her reach.

"I love you so much Beth," he said.

"I love you too, Daddy," she answered back.

Her father turned to walk away and the pain in her head began to throb again. It was a kind of pain she hadn't ever experienced, angry and biting and alive, the force of which sent her to her knees. Distantly she was aware of a piercing whine and the steady staccato of beeps, while the sounds of the playing children behind her morphed into a flurry of unrecognizable voices that layered over each other, sounding urgent and ghost-like. Everything was too hot and bright, as if someone had turned up the sun. She squinted against the blinding glare just in time to see her father's lips move.

"I… I can't hear you," she tried to yell, although she couldn't think much past the pain, couldn't even hear herself over the increasing volume of disembodied voices and beeping and the high pitched whine. The pain was pulling her away and around her the school yard began to melt and fade piece by piece, shifting into a lifeless grey that frightened her more than the pain. She tried to fight it so that she could follow her father, tried to hold onto ground that was rapidly disappearing from under her feet. But it was no use and she sunk to the grass with her head in her hands.

Just as her eyes began to close she heard her father's voice repeat himself, and although he was far away, this time she could hear him as clearly as if he were whispering in her ear. She succumbed to the pain's immeasurable pull, her father's final words to her floating in her ears like wind.

"Be brave, Beth," he said. "Be brave."


	3. Come Back to Me

Daryl's body didn't feel like his own. Every movement, every breath, blink, and twitch completely independent from the fraying and disconnected thoughts running through his mind. His vision blurred with hot tears and grief while the angry, blinding red that had colored his world only moments before began to ebb, leaving a tunnel-like haze with her at the focal point. He reached forward with shaking hands and scooped her limp body into his lap, trying not to think about the sharp smell of her blood or how warm she felt beneath his hands. Her head rolled back exposing the pale, elegant curve of her neck and a shudder of sadness wracked his body.

Somewhere in the sea of grief that was drowning him—but not killing him, because that would be too kind—another violent surge of anger burned bright in his chest at the sight of the scars that stretched across her face like hairy black caterpillars. The wounds looked relatively new, which meant one of _them_ had put them there, beaten her until her soft skin split open and spilled blood. In the part of him that was still putting together complete thoughts, he vowed that every last one of them would suffer what she had suffered. He would break their bones and beat their faces into bloody, unrecognizable pulps, the pain of her absence fueling him until there was nothing and no one left.

Other than the scars, she looked exactly the same as when he had last seen her. Same stained yellow polo and wool grey sweater, same porcelain pale skin and bright blonde ponytail. So unchanged was she that, if he closed his eyes, it was possible for him to pretend that she had just been playing the piano in a candlelit funeral parlor or looking at him wide-eyed over a table of pig's feet and peanut butter.

 _"There's still good people, Daryl… Don't you think that's beautiful? ...What changed your mind? ...Oh."_

Oh. _Oh._ How would he ever be able to unwrap all of the unsaid things tied up around that tiny, insignificant word?

He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he had been playing those memories over and over in his head, stupidly thinking that if he could keep her safe and alive in those moments they'd shared together that he would find her in one piece, same as he'd left her. He had imagined their reunion a thousand times, and not once had he allowed himself to picture the scenario that was currently playing out. He'd kept the faith just like she'd told him to, and in the end she'd been right. It hadn't killed him.

It had killed her instead.

Daryl watched a teardrop fall from the tip of his nose and land on her cheek. He didn't see the man in the white lab coat part the wall of cops and step forward until he was crouching down across from him, reaching out to touch Beth. In an instant the fog was gone and the red was back, coloring everything in front of him and pulsing at the edges of his vision like a heartbeat.

"Don't touch her!" He growled, instinctively pulling her closer to his chest with one hand while the other flew to his belt to grip the handle of his knife.

The balding man raised his palms in a surrendering gesture, rocking unsteadily on the balls of his feet.

"I'm the doctor," he said, and there was something in his tone that Daryl instantly resented. It was caution tinted with condescension, his mouth carefully forming around each word. Daryl recognized it as the kind of tone used to talk desperate people down off bridges or building ledges, the tone that got dead-eyed men in masks to drop their guns and knives and surrender their hostages. "I just want to check…"

"She's dead!" Daryl spat, the words tasting like poison as they tripped off his tongue and began echoing in his head like a tolling bell. "There ain't nothin' to check." He didn't give a damn who the man claimed to be. For all he knew, he'd been the one to scar up her face in the first place.

Daryl flinched slightly at the feel of a small hand landing on his shoulder, knowing without turning his head that it belonged to Carol. Only she would be brave enough to touch him at a time like this. She crouched down beside him but he avoided her gaze, knowing if he looked in her eyes all he would be able to see was his own hurt reflecting back at him.

"Daryl," she said softly. He could hear the tears in her voice and it was enough to make fresh ones of his own burn at the back of his throat. "Daryl, she's gone. He's not going to hurt her. He can't."

 _Gone, gone, gone._ The word joined the others bouncing around his head, beating against the sides of his skull in time to his racing pulse. He shook his head petulantly, like a child unwilling to share its favorite toy. It didn't matter if she was gone. No stranger was ever going to touch her again.

Around them the hallway and its inhabitants were still, a tense bubble of quiet building as they watched Daryl. The cops watched him like he was a dangerous animal, trying to gauge his unpredictability with a tenseness that rolled off of them in waves. Seconds ticked by on a nearby clock, every soft _tick-tock_ a stab in his heart. It seemed improbable that time hadn't actually stopped when, for the umpteenth time, a piece of his world had come to a dismal and horrifying halt.

Carol placed her hand on the back of Daryl's neck and gently squeezed it, a reassuring gesture that communicated to him again that it was okay. He didn't understand why it mattered, why they needed a shaky, balding man in a lab coat to tell them what they already knew. But he trusted his friend. Without a word he loosened his grip on Beth's body and gave a single nod of his head in compliance, fixing the cowering doctor with an angry, unwavering stare.

The doctor swallowed audibly before moving closer, reaching out slowly so as not to further upset the feral looking man holding Beth in his arms. He began to examine her, his lily white hands gently turning her head to look at the bleeding wound, fumbling with the cuff of her sweater and reaching for the wrist marred by the thin, red scar. Daryl ground his teeth, tightening his hold on her in an effort to resist the urge he felt to reach out and break the man's fingers. Hands like that, so clean and pampered and unsullied shouldn't be allowed to exist in this world, especially considering the most unsullied person he knew was lying limp and lifeless across his lap.

So caught up was he in the ways that he could break the man's fingers that the doctor's suddenly furrowed brow and quickening hands didn't register. He probably wouldn't have noticed anything at all if he hadn't heard Carol's sharp intake of breath next to his ear.

A quick glance at her face revealed a look of confusion that he didn't understand. Their eyes met for the first time since she'd been wheeled over in the rickety wheelchair and Daryl had to swallow down the feeling of hope that ballooned in his chest at what he saw there, at what she thought she understood. He snapped his head back to the doctor with renewed focus, watching as his hands gently probed the back of Beth's skull, fingers disappearing in tendrils of sunny blonde hair.

"What is it?" Rick's low voice demanded, floating over Daryl's shoulder as he stepped closer.

The doctor addressed Rick, looking over Daryl's head and the tops of his glasses with disbelief written on his face and coloring his voice.

"I've got a pulse."

* * *

The plastic folding chair Daryl sat in had seen better days. Its metal hinges squeaked furiously when he shifted in it and whole pieces were splintering off the back, the sharp edges digging into his shoulder blades. He wasn't really sure who had brought it in or how long ago, didn't even remember sitting down in it. There had been earlier attempts to get him to leave it when two hours turned to four and six and ten, offers from Rick and Michonne to relieve him sweetened with promises of food or requests for rest. But he had refused each one, waving them away with gruff choruses of "I'm good" and remained seated beside the hospital bed, watching over Beth's sleeping form.

He glanced across the bed at Maggie who was curled up in a chair with ripped vinyl covers that bled pieces of foam onto the floor when she moved. It was the first time since she'd arrived with the rest of the group in tow that she wasn't crying, though Daryl could still see the tracks the tears left behind on her dirty cheeks in the glow from the table lamp in the corner of the room. Glenn had come in earlier to try to get her to come and rest, but he'd found her already asleep, knees tucked in to her chest and her head resting in the crook of her elbow. He'd covered her with a blanket instead, nodded at Daryl with slightly furrowed brows and left the room.

They'd all been giving him some variation of _that_ look. A look of confusion that clearly said they didn't understand why he refused to leave mixed with subtle concern. Everyone knew he and Beth had been together after the prison fell, knew that he'd looked for her every day since she was taken. But Beth wasn't his family in the same way Maggie and Glenn were, his ties to her no different than Rick's, Michonne's, or anyone else. However, their inquiring glances were only met with solemn nods and uncommunicative shoulder shrugs that were very Daryl and could mean anything.

He knew it looked strange, him devoting all of his attention to Beth when they hadn't exactly been friends before. But he had a hard time finding the will to care what the rest of his family thought. They hadn't been there when they were alone on the road. They couldn't possibly understand.

Up on the wall a clock ticked steadily, the red second hand inching its way around and around the white face with a precision that irked Daryl. Since the moment they'd arrived at the hospital, time had been completely uncooperative. If it felt like it had come to a screeching halt in the minutes after Beth was shot, it started moving in fast forward the moment the doctor announced she was still alive. Seconds and minutes, whole chunks of hours tripping over each other like they were in some kind of race.

The doctor had called out several names over his shoulder while turning Beth's head to the side to get a closer look at where the bullet had hit her, yelling out orders for a bed and prepping a room, throwing out words like "blood loss" and "possible severe concussion" and "shock." There was a flurry of movement as behind the huddle of cops people in scrubs pushed through to help, bright spots of blue and green in the dimly lit hallway. But Daryl wasn't going to wait for them or a bed to cart her away, and he wasn't going to let them remove her from his sight. He tightened his grip on Beth, struggling to get to his feet under the weight of her limp body.

"Where?" He cried at the doctor once he was on his feet. "Where!"

The balding man opened his mouth as if to argue, but seeing the look on Daryl's face he changed his mind. He pointed to a room behind them and began hurriedly walking toward it with Daryl close behind. Daryl had laid her body on the narrow, white bed as instructed and then stood back against the wall as a girl younger than Beth came in carrying a shiny metal tray. He had watched as they buzzed around her, a flurry of hands passing silver instruments and sterile pads back and forth, hooking her up to a half full IV bag. They were quick and efficient, the doctor calling out orders and mumbling to himself as he worked.

A part of Daryl knew it would be smarter to step out of the room and give them space to fix her, and he felt incredibly helpless just standing there. But one glimpse of her delicate face, paler than the sheets she laid on, and he knew he couldn't. He couldn't just leave her in the hands of people he didn't know or trust when she looked like that.

He wanted to ask questions, to make one of them explain what was happening so he knew exactly how much fear and hope he could let live together inside of his chest. But he didn't interfere, afraid the moment he did would be the moment the doctor lost his concentration and she left him for good.

After several tense minutes, a space opened up on the left side of the bed and he stepped closer to her, not liking the look of her lying there alone. The doctor glanced up at him over the tops of his glasses for the first time, and for a moment Daryl wondered if he'd tell him to leave. But he'd said nothing, his expression unreadable.

It bothered Daryl that he couldn't read the doctor very well. There was something off about him, a measure of guilt or shame breaking through the methodic and professional persona he wore like a mask when he looked at Beth's face. Daryl watched him carefully, trying to understand through sheer body language what he could possibly have to be guilty about in regards to Beth. He did know, however, what the man saw when he looked at _him_. And it wasn't hard to imagine the kinds of things he was thinking about him either. For this doctor, social conventions from before the turn still held true. He thought he was better than Daryl and clearly wanted him out of the room.

Daryl wanted to care. He wanted to pull out that young, short-tempered redneck with a problem with authority from three years ago and let him put the doctor in his place. But more than that, he wanted Beth to live, and he needed the doctor to make that happen. So he gripped the side of the bed and bit his tongue, deciding he'd let the man think whatever he wanted to as long as he fixed her.

It was then that he'd heard familiar voices out in the hallway, rising and falling in tones of forced calm and outright panic. He didn't know why there were there or how they'd found them, but he wasn't surprised when Maggie's face appeared in the plexi-glass window beside the closed door, pressing her open palms against the glass surface. A frightened sob left her throat at the sight of her little sister lying still in the hospital bed, muffled by the window but sounding incredibly painful to Daryl's ears. She tried to enter the room but Rick and Glenn pulled her back, wrestling her down the hallway while she cried out Beth's name and a string of obscenities.

Now, looking at Maggie's sleeping form across the room, Daryl knew it was a good thing that she hadn't been there when it looked like Beth was dead. He wasn't sure she would have recovered.

As it was, it had been over twelve hours and Beth still hadn't woken up. After working on her for more than an hour, Dr. Edwards had met them in the hallway and explained the head injury she suffered when she hit the ground had likely given her a severe concussion. That combined with the sizeable blood loss from the bullet's graze and the lack of proper equipment to run any conclusive tests, and every aspect of her recovery became nothing more than an educated guess. He talked about the risk of infection at the site of the gunshot wound, the possibility of swelling in her brain, her weak pulse.

"If I could run a CT scan, I'd be able to give you better answers," Dr. Edwards had said to the group, wiping his hands with an antiseptic wipe he pulled from the pocket of his coat. "But at this point, we've done everything we can do. We're all just going to have to wait and see."

"Wait and see?" Maggie said, her voice wavering in disbelief. "My sister gets shot in the head and your expert medical opinion is that we all just have to wait and see?"

"Maggie," Glenn gently chastised. He placed a hand on her shoulder which she promptly swatted away.

"I know that isn't what you want to hear and I'm sorry. But there really isn't anything else to do but keep a close eye on her. I know it looks like we've got a fully functioning hospital here, but…"

"You don't wanna know what this place looks like to us Doc," Daryl said from the doorway to Beth's room, arms crossed tightly across his chest as he eyed a small group of cops who were talking in hushed voices at the end of the hallway. The whole place felt shifty and dangerous to him even with that bitch cop gone, like it was only masquerading as a hospital to hide something far more sinister.

Dr. Edwards faltered at the interruption, a slight blush spreading from his cheeks all the way up to his receding hairline. "Look," he said after a moment. "I promise you that we did our very best and we will continue to do so, for as long as is necessary. But it's up to Beth now."

Rick stepped forward with his hand on his holster and gave the doctor one of his signature stare downs before extending his open hand for the doctor to shake. "Thank you, Doctor, for your help," he said with a nod, not bothering to hide the menace in his voice. "We truly appreciate what you've done here. For us and for Beth."

For a moment, it looked to Daryl as if the doctor wanted to smile from the praise. He caught himself before he did though, shoving both hands in his pockets and nodding once in response.

"My people will stay here until she's better," Rick added in a firm tone that left no room for negotiation.

The doctor nodded again rather spastically, though the look on his face suggested he would rather move in a pack of hungry and diseased tigers than the group of people standing in front of him. "Y-yes, of course. If you would come with me now, we can work on getting you folks set up in one of the empty rooms," he said. "After that I'll have one of our orderlies show you to the cafeteria so you all can get something to eat. I'm afraid all we've got is guinea pig and stewed tomatoes, but it's actually…"

Seeing no further need for his continued participation in the conversation, Daryl stopped listening and turned around to resume his self-assigned post by Beth's side.

As the evening progressed, people came to visit her in groups of two or three. Rick came in with Carl and a sleeping Judith on his chest, followed later by Tyreese who put his large hand on Daryl's shoulder, nodding in solidarity while Sasha looked in from the doorway with a slightly vacant expression, her gun in hand. Carol and Michonne looked in on her as night began to fall, materializing out of the shadowy hallway like ghosts. Noah came alone after most of the hospital had gone to sleep, fidgeting at the foot of her bed and trying to hide the tears that glittered in his eyes.

When they came, they all spoke in low, reassuring tones while placing hands on her arm or legs underneath the scratchy hospital blankets. They were trying to be positive for Maggie's sake, but as the hours dragged by their eyes betrayed their concern and fear, the reality of the situation and the lifeless look of Beth in the bed making it difficult for them to pretend. Daryl understood their fear but resented their doubt, knowing that if the situation were reversed Beth would be optimistic and encouraging to the point of annoyance, keeping everyone going with her unwavering faith.

Dr. Edwards had come and gone several times throughout the night as well, scooting uncomfortably by the armed guard rotation Rick had set up outside the room to quietly check her vitals, making notes in a small notebook he kept in the pocket of his coat. Daryl watched him like a hawk each time, cataloguing each movement and betrayed expression for a hint of positive diagnosis.

It was just past four in the morning when he came in again, slipping past Abraham's large, menacing form lounging in the chair outside and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He went about his business quietly, changing the IV, lifting her closed lids and shining a small light in them, taking her pulse, and scribbling down notes without waking Maggie. When he was finished he paused. Normally he spoke to Maggie or Glenn and completely ignored Daryl, his obvious discomfort and dislike for him both amusing and irritating. But with his usual options absent or indisposed, he looked over and directed his update to him.

"Her breathing has regulated and her blood pressure's drastically improved," he said quietly, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. "And her pupils are responding to light which is a good sign."

"Good sign as in she'll wake up soon?"

The doctor sighed softly. "I can't promise that. The head trauma she suffered appears to be relatively minor in the grand scheme of things, and her steady improvements are encouraging. I'd like to believe that she'll wake up soon, but I just can't give you a time frame based solely off of that."

Daryl sighed with impatience but nodded. The news was good, even if it was frustratingly vague, and he'd take it. Dr. Edwards nodded stiffly back and left the room, his footsteps echoing down the empty halls. With his absence the hospital settled back into its heavy, oppressive quiet and Daryl eased back into his chair.

Every now and then he caught himself reaching forward and resting two fingers on the inside of her wrist, gently covering the nexus of pale blue veins there with dirt blackened fingers. He could see the rise and fall of her chest, a strong visual confirmation of life, but the desire to feel her heart beating beneath his fingertips was irresistible. He needed to feel that steady pulse of life to reassure himself that she was still here. He had been berating himself for not doing it the second she fell to the floor, worrying that in his instant and blinding grief where he had prohibited the doctor from touching her he had stolen precious seconds away from her. Seconds that maybe she didn't have to lose. But in the world they lived in now, there weren't medical miracles and there certainly weren't lucky breaks. When people got shot, they died. And that was that.

He should have known, though, should have just expected her to be different. Beth had proven to be the exception to his rules and to all of the rules of this godforsaken life they lived, so it made perfect sense that she would be the exception to this rule too.

Thinking this, he glanced at Abraham outside the door and over at Maggie to make sure she was still asleep before seizing Beth's hand. The gesture felt awkward; he couldn't recall ever reaching for someone's hand before and for a moment he wasn't entirely sure he was doing it right. But, he was surprised to discover, his fingers remembered what it felt like to hold her hand, flashes of a cold, sunny day in front of a nameless headstone darting through his mind.

He willed her to open her eyes, to sit up, to speak. He found himself making silent promises, bargaining and offering up everything he had left to something he didn't believe in with the hope that it would make a difference. He'd let her sing until her vocal chords were raw if that's what she wanted, let her call him on his shit and steal his knife and practice hunting with his crossbow until her arms couldn't carry it another step.

"C'mon Beth," Daryl whispered, so quietly he could barely hear himself. "You gotta wake up. I know it's hard, that you're tired and it hurts but… please. Come back…"

He paused, swallowing the next words he was going to say and bit his bottom lip, embarrassed and surprised at the ease with which they had almost left his mouth. Still, they sat heavy on his tongue, begging to be said and startling him with their truth, so unlike anything he'd ever said before. In a swell of bravery, he squeezed her hand and said them anyway.

"I need you to come back to me."

He waited in the silence that followed, listening to the mingled sounds of her and her sister's breathing and the ticking of the clock, feeling desperate for some sign that she'd heard him and then feeling silly that he felt so desperate. Before he realized what was happening, he felt sleep begin to pull him under. He'd been successfully avoiding it for the past two days, but it wasn't going to let him win this time. Reluctantly, he squeezed Beth's hand one last time and leaned back in the chair with heavy, sleep deprived eyes.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or sheer, stubborn will that wished it to be so, but in his last conscious moment before sleep overtook him, he could have sworn he felt her fingers twitch against his palm.


	4. Like They Never Stopped

In his dreams Beth was everywhere.

Hunting in an old forest with trees so tall they blocked out the sun, he walked on quick feet with his crossbow raised, moving stealthily through the cool, pine-scented shadows. He wasn't sure what he was hunting, exactly, until he heard her voice whispering his name, the sound moving around him like wind. A sense of urgency burned bright in his chest and he chased flashes of her ponytail, a glimpse of her boot or a pale hand curved around the trunk of a tree, following the sound of her laughter deeper into the forest. He ran hard, weaving through the trees and willing his legs to move faster but over and over again she evaded him, vanishing just as he was about to grab hold.

Suddenly, he was back in the funeral home, walking calmly down a dark hallway towards a room where orange light flickered. Outside a storm raged, rain pelting the roof and flashes of lightening filling the house with eerie blue light. Thunder cracked across the sky so loudly it shook the floorboards beneath his feet. As he moved closer to the room, through the noise of the storm he could hear soft piano music being played. Fighting the urge to smile, he picked up the pace knowing he had finally caught up with her.

The room looked just as he remembered it, with the piano along one wall and rows of chairs facing an empty coffin at the front of the room. She sat with her back to him, fingers dancing gracefully over the piano keys and playing a song he recognized. Relieved to see her, he called out her name only to feel his chest tighten and the breath lodge painfully in his throat when she turned around.

The sutures on her forehead and cheek had been ripped open, black strips dangling uselessly from the angry wounds. Trails of dark, dried blood stained her face as a steady stream of scarlet oozed from a bullet hole in the middle of her forehead. She smiled at him with lips coated in blood.

"You found me," she said matter-of-factly, as if there hadn't been any doubt that he would. Daryl tried to move to her to stop the bleeding but it felt like his legs had been filled with cement. Lightening flashed again, momentarily blinding him, and when it was gone suddenly so was Beth. He moved into the room, knocking over chairs, looking around frantically for any sign of her. It wasn't until he looked to the front of the room that he realized Beth lay still in the open coffin with her arms delicately folded across her chest, unseeing eyes wide open.

He awoke with a start to find himself back in the hospital, surrounded by sterile white walls. Immediately he looked to Beth and watched her chest rise and fall, listening to the sound of her steady breathing. She was alive, still breathing, still here. Daryl shook his head to try and clear the image of her lying so still in that coffin out of his mind, thinking that if he didn't the nausea it was giving him would have him leaning over a trash can before long.

"You okay?" Maggie asked. She was leaning with her elbows on the bed, her hands cupping Beth's and looking at him with concern. He hoped he hadn't said anything damning in his sleep.

Slowly he sat up and rubbed a hand over his face, willing his racing heart to calm down. Dreams like those were precisely the reason he didn't sleep much anymore. "Yeah, 'm fine," he said, hoping she would think his voice was thick with sleep and not fear.

She watched him carefully for a moment before jerking her head to a bottle of water and a granola bar that sat on the side table beside the bed. "Carl brought some food a while ago. He left yours there on the table. I could've sworn there were two…"

Daryl chuckled once as he swiped the granola bar and water off of the table. No doubt Carl had pocketed the other to eat in secret, the little punk. He sat back down heavily in the chair and ripped open the plastic packaging with his teeth.  
"Don' matter," he said with a mouthful of tough, expired granola and raisins. "I ain't that hungry anyway."  
"Liar," Maggie said under her breath, and he lifted a corner of his mouth in response. She smirked back as he shoved the rest of the bar in his mouth.  
He nodded at Beth as he chewed. "How's she doin'?"  
Maggie shrugged, sighing heavily as she began slowly stroking Beth's hand. "About the same."

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, absentmindedly rubbing his chin and thinking that Maggie looked as tired as he felt. The circles ringing her eyes were as dark as bruises, the slump in her shoulders physical evidence of the worry she currently carried.

"I was just thinking about the time she fell out of a tree and broke her arm," Maggie said suddenly, a small smile creeping onto her face.

"She broke her arm?"

She looked at him and nodded. "It was just before her fifth birthday. She was a tiny little thing, had no business being in a tree. But Daddy had told her this story about a family of fairies that lived in the oak tree we had out back, told her they had wings like butterflies and rode dragonflies like horses. So she took it upon herself to go and find the place where the fairies lived. She got a hold of the step ladder from the pantry and dragged it all the way outside to the tree, used it to reach the low branches. Then she hauled herself up and just started climbing."

Daryl could picture it as easily as if he'd been there. Little Beth with chubby pink cheeks and a head of wild blonde curls, determined and fearless, in search of the magic she was sure existed.

"How far'd she get?"

Maggie smiled a watery smile. "Not very. She would've gotten stuck before she got too high, but the silly thing upset a squirrel before that could happen. It scared her so bad she let go of the branch and fell right out of the tree."

For a moment they let themselves chuckle at the thought of Beth pulling herself up onto a branch only to be met with the beady black eyes of a squirrel. The laughter was short lived, however, and suddenly Maggie's lip was quivering. She caught Daryl's gaze and answered his unspoken question.

"It's just… I did this before back on the farm. With Andrea," Maggie said, her green eyes filling with tears. "Held my baby sister's hand and told stories to… to keep her close when was so far away."

"She's strong, Maggie," Daryl said firmly. "She's gonna wake up."

She pressed her lips together and nodded as a tear rolled down her cheek. There was something about the way she did it, as if she were just going through the motions that made Daryl wonder if maybe her faith in Beth's recovery was wavering too.

"It wasn't your fault you know," she said after a long moment of quiet. He looked down at the floor and bit his lip, not having to ask her what she meant. "I know that's why you're in here so much… why you haven't left her side. But you shouldn't feel guilty. You're the one who found her, after all."

It was nice of her to say, to let him off the hook so easily. But she hadn't been there. It _was_ his fault. He was the one who told her to leave that night, the one who had separated them. That choice had landed her in a place where people had beaten her and scarred her face and shot her in the head. He felt incredibly responsible for everything that had happened to her since the moment he'd left her side, and he wasn't going to leave her again.

Daryl felt the heat rise in his face under Maggie's gaze as he tried to ignore the thoughts that said his guilt wasn't the only reason he refused to leave her side. He saw her eyes so big and blue, staring at him in the kitchen of that funeral home where it all went bad every time he closed his own. The way something inside of him had stirred under her open and honest gaze, something he hadn't had a chance to make sense of before both it and she were taken from him. How for a moment she'd had him believing that as long as they were together everything was going to turn out alright.

He was saved from a response with the sound of approaching footsteps. Rick and Glenn appeared in the doorway and Glenn walked immediately to Maggie's side, placing his hands on her shoulders and acknowledging her tears with a worried frown. Rick stood at the foot of the bed with his hand resting on the hilt of his gun in its holster.

"She looks good," he said with a nod at Beth as Maggie hastily wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Her color's much better. Bet it's just a matter of a time till she's up and moving."

Glenn looked down at Maggie and gently squeezed her shoulders. "Hey. Why don't you and I go for a walk? It's almost dinner time; we can stop by the cafeteria on the way and get something to eat."

She hesitated but eventually nodded her consent, giving Beth one last sad look before following Glenn into the hallway where Michonne, Tara, Abraham, and Tyreese stood huddled in conversation. Tara threw her arm around Maggie in a sideways hug, folding her seamlessly into the group.

"How're you doing?" Rick asked, furrowing his brow when Daryl only nodded in response. He sighed heavily, leaning forward and resting both hands on the plastic footboard at the end of the bed. He looked tired too. "We need to start thinking about what we're going to do once we get outta here. Noah was telling us last night that Beth was trying to get him home to Virginia. He's got family there, says they had a small settlement. Walls. Good people. And with Eugene being… well… now that D.C's out of the picture, I figure it's not a bad place to start."

Daryl rubbed a hand over his face and nodded, feeling that resigned defeat he felt whenever life handed them chances and then took them away again. Glenn had been the one to tell him about Eugene's lie, waiting until Abraham had left guard duty before summing up their disastrous jaunt to D.C. Daryl didn't know why they were all so surprised. It had sounded too good to be true, so of course it had

been.

"Don't see why not," he said. "It's a shorter trip, anyway. Less supplies, less risk. Probably be good for Beth to get somewhere she can rest for a while once she wakes up, too. She might need time, but I don't want her in this shithole any longer than necessary."

"Yeah," Rick said after a moment, drawing the word out on an exhale. "This place ain't exactly welcoming. Couple of cops came by the room yesterday afternoon claiming first aid equipment had gone missing from some locked cabinet. They said they needed to search all of the occupied rooms, but they only searched ours. Made a big show of dumping out backpacks in piles on the floor and making people empty their pockets. Then when they didn't find anything, they had the nerve to hand us a clipboard of chores on it, gave some speech about how everyone who wants to eat has to work. I'm all for helping out, but to tell hungry people they can't eat until they mop a hallway? In this world? That doesn't sit right with me."

"Fuckin' bullshit is what it is," Daryl growled, crossing his arms across his chest as he leaned back in the chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. Rick smirked but nodded his head in agreement.

"I'm not sure how much longer it's safe for us to be here, to be honest," Rick said after a moment of companionable silence. There was something in the tone of his voice that made the hair on the back of Daryl's neck stand up, his words sounding more like a veiled warning than an admission of worry.

"We'll be fine," he said firmly. "We've dealt with worse than these assholes."

Rick nodded again, running a hand through his lengthening—and graying—hair. "I know, I know. It just feels different, trying to live among them. And being so god damn vigilant all the time… I don't know whether I should have us playing defense or offense anymore."

Daryl frowned. That was a valid concern, one he didn't have any helpful answers or advice for.

"I'm worried about you too, brother," Rick said quietly. Daryl had nothing to say to this either. He still didn't know how to handle when people expressed the fact that they cared about him or what to do with the strange, warm-but-itchy feeling it gave him. "You've been in this room for days. You've barely slept or ate… I know you want her to wake up. We all do. But you've gotta keep your strength up. Get some rest. And I'm concerned about what will happen if…"

"If what?"

Rick shifted his gaze to Beth's face, watching her for a moment with a sad look in his eyes before looking back at Daryl.

"If she doesn't wake up," he said.

If Daryl was being honest with himself, he'd been wondering the same thing. He thought back to the way he'd reacted when he thought she was dead, at how quickly he had fallen into grief so thick and dark it felt like being buried alive. And now, to have this glimmer of a second chance dancing in front of him, still just barely out of his grasp… it was keeping him going. What would he do if that glimmer disappeared? Daryl swallowed, staring intently at hands that had balled themselves into fists.

"She made me better," he said finally, the words leaving his mouth before he realized he was saying them out loud. "When we were out there on our own, just the two of us… I was so fuckin' angry and ashamed I didn't look harder for the Governor. I was an asshole, treated her like shit most of the time."

Up until the night he and Beth had burned down the moonshine shack, he could feel himself slipping. Reverting back to the short-tempered, foul-mouthed, sullen asshole he had been back when he was following his brother around Georgia like a puppy dog. He hadn't wanted to, but it seemed safer than Beth's way of coping—tracking ghosts and living on hope—and it had made him say and do some stupid, very asshole-ish things.

"I was real close to losin' my grip. And Beth just kept pushin' and pushin' me away from that edge, yellin' and swearin' and fightin' _for_ me before I even knew that's what she was doin'. She made me believe that goodness wasn't gone and faith was worth holdin' onto when I lost sight of both." He paused for a moment, unable to resist looking at her face. "She's the best person I've ever known."

Daryl made a point not to look at his friend though he could feel the weight of his gaze. Whether it was his previous training as a cop or an inherent personality trait, Rick was incredibly observant when it came to people, and Daryl was afraid he'd revealed too much.

"Daryl, you and Beth…?"

"Rick?" Glenn said, interrupting from the doorway. "You mind coming out here for a minute?"

Rick nodded at him and turned to follow. Daryl braced himself as Rick paused to look back at him, opening his mouth as if to finish his interrupted thought. Instead, he reached over and without saying another word, placed his hand on Daryl's shoulder and gave it a squeeze before turning to join the group outside the door.

Their voices were a soft hum, a welcome white noise to the thoughts currently trying to take up every available space in his head. He didn't understand why he was so reluctant to share the details of what had happened when it was just him and Beth out on the road. There was something about keeping that time just between them that made it more real, more special, as if talking about it and letting other people in would sully it. This was the first time he'd even remotely felt like talking about it, but he'd needed Rick to understand even if it was just a little bit why he wasn't going to let her go.

"Daryl?"

For a moment, he thought that wishful thinking had led him to imagine the sound of her voice. That exhaustion had finally driven him to hallucinate or that maybe he was still stuck in some nightmare chasing a ghost. But in his dreams her calling out his name was never more than a breath, a barely-there whisper of sound that drove him half mad. This sounded different, alive and present. He held his breath and looked up slowly, glancing at her face through the dark fringe of hair that fell in his eyes, afraid of being disappointed.

But there she was, blue eyes open and blinking at him like they'd never stopped. Swallowing the surprising urge to lay his head on her stomach and cry with relief, he leaned forward hurriedly and reached for her hand, joy and relief ballooning throughout his body and making it impossible for him to feel self-conscious about the gesture. She smiled weakly at him with heavy lidded eyes and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

"Hi," she said, her voice sounding hoarse from disuse.

"You're awake," he whispered back, feeling stupid for stating the obvious but needing to say it out loud anyway.

Beth looked around the hospital room, wincing in pain when she moved her head too quickly. She frowned at the sight of the IV dripping through the needle taped to the back of her hand and looked back at Daryl with a muddled look on her face. "What happened? Are… are we at Grady?"

Daryl chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment before nodding. "What do you remember?"

She squinted slightly, as if doing so would help her see the past more clearly. "Dawn told Noah he had to stay in my place. And I was really angry. I…I think I stabbed her?"

"She shot you," Daryl said, trying to break the news gently. Just those three words were enough to set his blood boiling, the anger filling him with fire and hatred. He had to remind himself that the bitch was dead. She was dead and Beth was not. "We all thought you were dead but the doctor came over and found a pulse, rushed you into a room, and fixed you up. The bullet grazed the side of your head, but when you fell you hit the back of your head, too. You lost a lot of blood, and you've been out for almost two days."

At the mention of the doctor Beth frowned, her mouth twisting in obvious contempt. She slowly lifted her free hand to her head and felt around for the rectangular, white bandage that covered a portion of her head above her ear, tracing its edges with her fingertips. "Where's Dawn?"

"Dead," Daryl replied, looking down at their joined hands on the thin blanket. "I shot her."

When he looked back at her he saw a strange mixture of sadness and relief fighting for control of her features. Briefly he wondered if she would be disappointed in him for killing her or, God forbid, actually sad that the cop was dead. "I'm sorry you had to do that," she said finally, squeezing his hand again, and he realized that her sadness was for him, not for Dawn.

Daryl shook his head. "I'm not."

And he wasn't. Of all the lives he had taken since every day had become an ongoing battle for survival, he regretted this one not at all.

"Oh my god."

Daryl turned his head to the doorway where Maggie stood with a hand splayed across her chest, her eyes wide with wonder at the sight of her little sister awake and talking. For a moment she appeared to be frozen in place, overcome with surprise and disbelief. Daryl subtly let go of Beth's hand, and then Maggie was running across the room to Beth's side, leaning over her and placing trembling hands gingerly on both cheeks. She was smiling and laughing as tears of relief spilled over her cheeks.

"Oh my god Beth, thank God! Thank God you're alright."

Beth hesitantly lifted the hand he had just let go of to her sister's face, touching her cheek as if she wasn't entirely sure she was real. With a jolt Daryl realized this was the first time that Beth had seen her sister since the prison. Tears filled her eyes too once she'd convinced herself Maggie wasn't going to vanish, and he watched her throw an arm around her neck and pull her down for an embrace.

Suddenly the room was crowded as the group from the hall came in. Glenn, Rick, Carl, Michonne, Tyreese, Abraham, and Tara all moved into the small space, watching the reunited sisters with genuine smiles on their faces. Rick gave Daryl a knowing smile, but it didn't bother him. He didn't think anything would ever bother him again, because Beth was awake.

She'd come back to him.


	5. Voices in the Dark

Right away she could tell that following her father's advice to be brave was going to be a challenge. For a long time there was nothing but darkness and pain. Fiery, burning, aching pain that had sucked her out of a place of blue sky and sunshine, stolen her away from her father, and abandoned her in a state of nothingness. Hershel had _said_ she wasn't dead…

…a _nd he must've been right, because there is no way that death could hurt this badly,_ Beth thought.

She couldn't open her eyes or make anything move, only unlike before this realization frightened her. Was she paralyzed? But then why so much pain? And why could she not remember how she had gotten this way? She tried to scream, if only to alleviate her frustration and find some sort of release for the pain, but the only thing she accomplished was making her head hurt worse.

There were moments when Beth thought she could hear voices. They sounded close, but thick and garbled, almost as if they were speaking underwater and she was listening with cotton balls shoved in her ears. It was impossible to understand what they were saying but she could occasionally recognize different pitches and tones. Listening to this was preferable to the long stretches of silence that often occurred however, which left her with nothing to focus on but her confusion and the pain.

She tried to make sense of the strange experience with her father during one of these lapses in conversation. Logically it made sense to say it was a dream. A heartbreakingly realistic dream, but nothing more. She knew her father was gone, and she told herself that the dead didn't show up whole and alive any place other than dreams. But something kept her from coming to any sort of conclusion, something that remembered the feel of his hands on her face, the way her forehead could still feel his lips kissing her goodbye for the last time. It was whole and final and gave her a sense of peace in all the current doubt and confusion, something no dream had ever done for her before.

Beth had been raised on faith, but the past three years of her life had done little to affirm her belief in a higher power or any kind of heaven. Still, it was nice to think that her mom and dad and Shawn were together somewhere, safe and at peace with all of the friends and family they'd lost.

She wondered if wherever she and Hershel had been together was a middle ground between whatever she was and wherever her father had come from. Maybe if she were dead and there was nothing or no one to get back to in real life he would have allowed her to leave with him rather than let her fall helplessly into darkness.

Even if she wasn't dead, the thought did little to soothe her worries about her current dark, paralytic state. But there had been something, a feeling amidst the fear and pain as the world collapsed around her in that schoolyard that made her give in because a part of her knew it was taking her back. Back to something important, something that she'd fought hard to see again.

She spent a long time trying to remember names or faces, thinking that maybe if she could visualize who or what it was she'd come back for it would help her to break free from the darkness. So absorbed was she in this task that there was no way of pinpointing when the voices started to get clearer. But suddenly the muffled sounds that volleyed over her were coming into focus, and the excitement she felt was instantaneous. She strained to pick out individual words, listening harder than she ever had before in hopes of hearing someone say what exactly was wrong with her.

 _She… blood… promise… Beth… need you…_

She tried rearranging them, fitting them together like puzzle pieces. But it was no use. Without context none of it made any sense.

Still she listened. Some voices made her feel strange and uncomfortable, enough so that she wished she didn't have to just lay there in the dark while they were near to her. The one she disliked the most was a male voice that spoke with articulation and a nasally, almost condescending tone that set her on edge and made her skin crawl. She couldn't put her finger on why, but instinct told her this was the voice of a person not to be trusted. This voice often said helpful things, however, in terms of why she couldn't seem to wake up. He talked about her head a lot, and her blood pressure which apparently was improving.

There was another male voice that bothered her, though she only heard it a couple of times. It was a deep, intelligent sounding voice that always spoke for lengthy and uninterrupted amounts of time. These little speeches reminded her of the way people said prayers, the inflection and words she managed to understand triggering memories of her childhood and her father. But something about it sounded weak and doubtful to her ears and didn't seem to bring much comfort to the others around her. It made her wonder why he was the one praying over her in the first place.

The rest of the voices she didn't mind, grateful that they stuck around to talk around her. Sometimes they sounded sad, other times not, although a woman often cried by her side, holding her hand while apologizing over and over again for something she never said out loud. Once she heard a baby cry and she felt the urge to smile, feeling an ache of familiarity in her chest. She'd taken care of a baby once, hadn't she?

One person never left her side. He didn't say much, but she knew without seeing or hearing him that he was there. Beth liked this voice. It was low and rumbly and made her feel incredibly safe, soothing her frustration. It bothered her that she couldn't remember the face it belonged to. Or why when she heard it she thought of peanut butter and jelly and fire.

This was the voice that was speaking when the garbled nonsense and scattered words started becoming full sentences. It was an odd sensation, like a radio tuner inside her head had jumped from a station full of static to one with resounding clarity.

 _She made me better,_ the low voice said. The relief she felt at hearing this first full sentence was so powerful she thought she might cry. It continued, slow and thoughtful, speaking to someone else in the room, and when it said her name Beth paused her celebrating to listen carefully. They were talking about her. Maybe it was the pain making her hear things or hope making her imagination run wild, but the voice sounded an awful lot like...

 _She's the best person I've ever known._

It was _him_. He was there beside her, alive and well after all of the time they'd spent a part. She had a flash of him standing at the end of a hospital hallway, looking dirty and exhausted but also relieved, holding out his hand to her. Behind him stood faces of family she had worried she'd never see again, but all she saw in that moment was him. And hearing him say something so honest and kind about her gave way to a warm and pleasant feeling that gripped her heart, even as the memory slipped away. For the first time, she was grateful she wasn't awake because if she was she knew she'd start crying.

In the silence that followed, Beth fought to open her eyes. She pushed and strained with every fiber of her being, his words echoing in her ears and fueling the strength she needed to claw her way up and out. Out of the darkness and towards that voice.

Her eyelids felt incredibly heavy as she forced them to open, a blurry haze coating her eyes like a film. She was surrounded by white and there was a pliant softness under her head. A cloud, perhaps, or a field of snow? Whatever it was it was bright and hurt her eyes. She blinked several times, willing the haziness away and the room came slowly into focus, the whiteness shifting into walls and floors and the foot of the bed she lay in.

Then her eyes landed on him; dark, dirty, and slouching in a chair beside her bed with a worried, far-away look on his face. It took her a few breaths before she could speak, the word she wanted sitting patiently on her tongue and waiting for her to spit it out.

"Daryl?" She finally managed to say, watching as he slowly looked up at her with a guarded look on his face. She tried to smile reassuringly at him, but before she could he was on the edge of his seat and leaning over her, unexpectedly grasping her hand. The look on his face shifted immediately to powerful relief and he smiled at her, a genuine and wide smile that made something low in her belly flutter. He looked so much younger when he smiled.

"You're awake," he said quietly as she weakly squeezed his hand. Beth smiled back at him, feeling groggy and lightheaded, trying to keep her focus on his face but being distracted by the sensations surrounding her. As she took in the room and her place in it, smelling the sharp smell of watered down disinfectant and the feel of bandages and tubes on her skin she couldn't help but be disappointed that she was clearly still inside Grady Memorial's walls.

Slowly, it all came back to her. Dr. Edwards' cowardice, Gorman's lecherous smile and wandering hands, Dawn beating her, the satisfaction she felt watching Noah escape through a gap in the chain link fence. Starving herself in an attempt to work off her "debt" and spending her days making escape plans while she mopped clean floors and folded scrubs. The tenseness of the prisoner exchange in the main hallway, how the surgical scissors had felt warm against her palm as she shoved the tip into the exposed skin of Dawn's neck.

Daryl explained what had happened afterwards, of Dawn's death and Beth's own brush with it. She felt a momentary pang at the thought of more death, a wave of sadness coursing through her at the idea that Daryl had had to kill someone because of her. She paused, reaching up to touch the edge of the bandage at her temple before meeting his gaze.

"I'm sorry you had to do that," she whispered finally, wanting to say more but coming up short. There weren't words to tell someone how sorry and grateful you were that they'd killed someone for you. She was ashamed of how relieved she felt that Dawn was gone, and even more ashamed that her blood was on Daryl's hands.

"I'm not," he said back with a steeliness that surprised Beth. Not because Daryl wasn't the type of person to regret killing a bad person, but more because of how safe it made her feel. He was still holding her hand, and that coupled with the look in his eyes made tears well up at the corners of hers.

God she'd missed him.

Beth heard a woman gasp from the doorway, and suddenly she was looking at her sister. Maggie's green eyes were wide with surprise, and she stood still in the doorway for a long moment before rushing to her side and laying shaking hands on either side of her face. It had been so long since she'd seen her, long enough that Beth had started to worry she never would. She was distinctly aware of Daryl slipping his hand from hers, so subtly she doubted Maggie even noticed he'd been holding it in the first place, but his absence allowed her to reach up and pull Maggie closer. She grasped the collar of the cream colored t-shirt she wore as her sister's hot tears dripped onto her cheeks, mingling with her own.

Through the sounds of their laughter and sobs, Beth heard other people enter the small room. Glancing over Maggie's shoulder, she saw the tired but smiling faces of Glenn, Rick and Carl, Michonne, and Tyreese. Even the two strangers who stood just inside the doorway were smiling slightly, as if they'd just seen something heartwarming.

It was overwhelming and not exactly the way she imagined being reunited with them all. But they were there together. And despite everything—and everyone—who'd told her she couldn't, she had made it to see them again. She sent up a quick prayer of thanks—to God, to her father, to whoever or whatever was up there listening—before hugging her sister again, holding on tight.

* * *

The pen light Dr. Edwards was shining in her eye was doing absolutely nothing for the pounding in her skull, for which they were also not giving her any pain medication. It was a bit of a sore subject with Daryl.

"What the hell d'you mean you ain't gonna give her no pain meds?" He'd said to the doctor not long after she'd woken up, clearly fighting to control the volume of his voice after her request had been refused. Beth bit back a smile looking at Dr. Edwards who was clearly intimidated by Daryl, something she didn't think Daryl minded too much.

"With this kind of head injury, we don't typically prescribe pain medications that could cloud her judgment before I can administer the appropriate neuropsychological tests," Dr. Edwards said, clutching the notebook he'd been recording her information on to his chest as if it would protect him from Daryl.

"Well what would you recommend then?" Maggie asked from beside the bed. "Considering she got shot, and all."

Dr. Edwards flinched at the dig. "Over the counter medication like acetaminophen is usually sufficient to manage the pain from concussions. But considering the additional head wound and the length of time she was unconscious at this point it would be better to…"

"Acetaminophen? So Tylenol," Maggie said. "Or Ibuprofen. That's basically the same thing. You've gotta have some of that lying around this place."

"It's not that we don't have any," Edwards said, a rosy flush spreading across his face. "But obviously we have a limited supply. It's been our policy to save any kind of painkiller for more serious medical issues…"

The doctor faltered and Beth didn't have to look over to know the look on Daryl's face was the reason why. She'd been on the receiving end of one of those looks before, and they were less than pleasant.

"… like amputations and… and major surgeries."

Immediately, Joan's face came to mind and Beth tensed her jaw. The only reason _she'd_ gotten any painkillers after she lost her arm was so that she'd stay loopy and bedridden. Not cause any further trouble. She met Dr. Edwards' gaze and tried to hold it, to make him accountable for some small part of the poor girl's death and feeling a sense of triumph when he looked away. Maggie opened her mouth to protest and Beth put a hand on her arm, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Maggie, I'm okay for now. It doesn't hurt that bad," she lied. Truthfully, all the talking and bodies in the small room were tiring her out. She could easily see this argument going on for a long time, and she just wanted it to stop. Dr. Edwards cleared his throat and mumbled something about rest and coming back within the hour to run some tests before quickly exiting the room.

She was sleepy but fought hard against it, too eager to see everyone to let sleep interfere. Over and over she was reunited with faces from her past, the family that she'd never given up on seeing again stepping into the room. Wrapped in their hugs, seeing their smiles, and talking to them again even if nothing was really said was worth every ounce of exhaustion she stockpiled.

Afterwards, feeling overwhelmed and high on happiness, Rick introduced her to the new members of the group. The large, red headed man named Abraham nodded at her politely from the doorway, a rifle in his hands, while the pig tailed woman named Rosita smiled and gave her a jaunty wave beside him. Tara walked right up and gave her a gentle hug, a gesture so friendly and uncharacteristic of strangers these days that Beth laughed, immediately warming to the dark haired woman and her goofy grin.

The two other men, Eugene and Father Gabriel, perplexed her. She recognized Father Gabriel's voice from the hazy time in the in-between, unsurprised at how despite his collar and formal, practiced politeness, there was a shade of dishonesty behind his eyes. However it was Eugene no one seemed to be able to look in the eye, and Abraham practically rippled with anger anytime he was near him. She wondered briefly what he had done, but smiled and nodded politely at both of them anyway.

She'd fought back a fresh wave of tears when Carl brought Judith in to see her, every joyful feeling inside of her singing and glowing at the sight of her little face. For a moment, Judith seemed unsure, tucking her head in the crook of Carl's neck and peering at Beth from under his chin. But at the sing-song sound of her name from Beth's lips she raised her head and then reached for her surrogate mother, who in turn held her so close she could feel the baby's little heartbeat pounding away inside her chest.

Beth didn't want to let go. Of Judith or the moment, of having everyone she loved in the world together in one room. This was why her father had said it wasn't time for her to go. This was what she had come back for.

Eventually though, she couldn't fight the pull of exhaustion or ignore the heaviness of her eyelids any longer. People began to file out as she leaned back against the pillows, even Daryl, who gave her a long, inscrutable look before disappearing into the hallway. Beside her Maggie lifted a cool hand to her forehead and smoothed back her hair.

"Rest now," she said with a smile. "We'll be here when you wake up."

And sleep she did, on and off for the next day. Every time she opened her eyes, there was a familiar face sitting close by, waiting for her with kind eyes and a smile.

When she woke up again the next evening it was dark, the only light coming from a battery powered lamp across the room that threw long, dark shadows on the wall and across the floor. Through the window Beth could see the back of Michonne's head, bent over examining the blade of her sword as she sat on guard duty. The door was closed, and the quiet was almost oppressive.

Before, when she'd been alone, nighttime in the hospital was her least favorite time. There was no lock on her door, and she'd spent night after night dozing fitfully and being startled awake by noises, both real and imaginary, afraid of what or who would happen to her if she let her guard down for even a moment.

She still wasn't entirely convinced that the remaining cops weren't a threat. And, if the continued guard duty posted outside her door was any indication, neither did Rick.

Daryl was sleeping upright in the chair beside her bed, his arms crossed and his chin tucked into his chest. Beth smiled openly at the sight. One, because he clearly didn't get enough sleep, and two because after all of the time she'd spent alone, his face was a nice one to wake up to. She bit her lip, thinking back to that drunken, moonlit night on the porch of the moonshine shack when she'd teased him, telling him how badly he was going to miss her when she was gone. She hadn't known then how much she'd miss _him_ , how being separated from him had felt like a vital part of her had been ripped away.

She felt another wave of tears coming— _did all head wounds make people this emotional?_ —and swallowed to keep them at bay. Realizing how dry her throat was she looked to the bedside table where a cup of water had sat since they'd taken her off of the IV drip the day before. It wasn't there, but on the counter beside the lamp sat the pitcher and an empty cup. She had been given strict instructions not to get out of bed or strain herself in anyway, which is why for the last day and a half people had been waiting on her hand and foot. Not only was she getting sick of this, but Daryl was fast asleep, and she saw no point in waking him to accomplish a task that would require less than ten steps total.

Slowly, Beth began to move, lifting the blanket off of her and sliding her legs towards the edge of the bed with the delicate and measured precision normally reserved for splitting atoms. She held her breath as she moved, careful not to make a sound and pausing between movements. About a full minute later she had both legs dangling off the edge of the mattress and was about to put her bare feet on the cool linoleum, already feeling successful.

She didn't hear him stir but suddenly he was awake, his voice startling her before she could stand.

"What's wrong?" Daryl asked, his voice thick with sleep. "What're you doin'?"

Beth froze, feeling like a little kid caught with a hand in the cookie jar. She turned her head and looked at him over her shoulder.

"I was just getting some water," she said, trying to make her voice sound nonchalant and confident, thinking that maybe if she sounded like it was no big deal—which it wasn't—then he'd humor her and let it go.

She had no such luck. Immediately, Daryl stood up and walked around the bed, reaching for the plastic pitcher of water and a paper cup before she could open her mouth to protest. "That's what I'm here for," he said as he poured, giving her a look. "You're not supposed to get out of bed."

"You were asleep!" She said, exasperated. "And its right there…I can do it myself. I'm not broken for God's sake."

Daryl handed her the paper cup, water sloshing over the rim and trickling down his knuckles as he did so. "I never said you were," he said, although his eyes lingered on the thick white bandage on her head.

Beth took the cup and rolled her eyes, lifting it to her lips and drinking it down in two large gulps. It was room temperature and tasted vaguely of the plastic container it resided in, but it soothed the dry, dusty feeling at the back of her throat instantly. Wordlessly Daryl reached out for the cup and she handed it over, watching as he filled it again.

"I'm fine, you know," she said petulantly as he gave her the water a second time. He said nothing, raising the pitcher slightly when she was finished with her drink to ask if she wanted more. Beth shook her head and reluctantly resituated herself in the bed, tucking her legs back under the thin blanket while he put down the water and walked slowly back to his chair. She sighed, leaning back against the pillows and folded her arms across her chest, an action which elicited a chuckle from Daryl.

"What?" She asked.

"You look grumpy," Daryl responded. "I don't think I've ever seen you look grumpy before."

Beth rolled her eyes but couldn't resist the chuckle that bubbled up. "I am grumpy," she shot back, although she wasn't sure it was as convincing when said with a smile.

Movement outside the door caught both of their attentions. Beth could feel Daryl stiffen as outside, two cops walked slowly past the room doing a nightly round. One, a short, dark haired man named Jefferson nodded at Michonne, before glancing through the window and making eye contact with Beth. The gesture itself was harmless, unaccompanied as it was by anything. But Beth wasn't fooled. She'd killed two of their own, a fact that she was sure was, if not well known, then widely speculated upon. She returned the glance with a defiant stare of her own, hoping he couldn't somehow see through her to the icy fear that filled her veins.

Beth waited until she could no longer hear their heavy footsteps before dropping her gaze and letting her arms fall to her lap.

"Hey, Daryl?" She said quietly, looking down at her hands. "How much longer do we have to be here? I know Dr. Edwards says he wants to keep me around for observation, but…" She let her thought trail off. Daryl sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

"Not too much longer," he said. "Couple of days, maybe. We need you up and movin' first, get your strength up. Rick's got a plan and he's workin' on gettin' us a car. A little more sleep and some steady meals will do everyone some good in the meantime."

Beth nodded. Of course waiting for her to get better was a good opportunity for everyone else to get some much needed rest. She felt guilty for not thinking of them.

"Ok," she whispered. "I just… I would really like to leave this place. As soon as possible."

"I'm sure that doc'll give you the all clear soon," Daryl added. Beth frowned, unable to control her emotions at the mention of Dr. Edwards. "You really don't like him, do you?"

The past few weeks had given her a crash course in the depths of human depravity. And although there were several that she had encountered who were far worse than the doctor, she could never forget what he'd made her do. Sometimes when she closed her eyes, she saw that poor man seizing, his body stiff and shaking, his face turning purple while she stood by, helpless and confused. He'd had no right to do that to her, to make her take a life of someone who hadn't done a thing to her.

Beth looked at Daryl, her jaw clenched with anger and hatred.

"He's a coward," she said finally.

Daryl watched her carefully, his brows slightly furrowed with unease and confusion, trying to understand what she wasn't telling him. Beth took a breath and forced the tension to ease from her face. She'd made a promise to herself that she wouldn't burden anyone with the things that had happened to her at Grady, especially considering that she'd rather just forget it all herself. Maybe it was his obvious concern, or the way she had a hard time hiding things from him in general. But before she knew what she was doing, she was opening her mouth and letting the truth—or at least a small portion of it—spill out.

She started with the night they took her and told him what she remembered. Then she talked about how Grady was run, describing their policy for bringing people in and how being sick or weak in some way was a prerequisite. Her tone softened when she told him about meeting Noah, about their plan to escape and how close she'd been to getting out on her own. She ended with Dr. Edwards cleverly forcing her to murder the oncologist, skipping entirely over Joan and Gorman and Dawn's beatings, hearing Daryl's knuckles crack as he tightened his hands into angry fists.

Daryl's face was expressionless, although a cloud of rage stormed in his eyes when she felt brave enough to look at him again. She wanted to tell him everything else, all of the hard things that she was trying desperately to bury and thinking of what a relief it would be to have the weight of it off of her shoulders even for just a moment. But the very thought of saying Gorman's name out loud had her tasting bile at the back of her throat. She couldn't imagine being able to get through the entire ordeal, or that Daryl would sit calmly through it. So she said nothing, taking a deep breath instead.

"Who gave you those?" Daryl asked after a moment, and she knew he was referring to the scars on her face. Beth raised a hand to her the scar on her cheek.

"I woke up with this one," she answered quietly before dropping her hand. "Dawn gave me the other."

Daryl's nostrils flared but he said nothing.

"It… they don't hurt," Beth said lamely, feeling the need to say something reassuring.

"That ain't the point," Daryl said, his voice a low growl.

He was looking down at the ground and Beth was surprised by the sudden impulse to reach out and place a hand on his cheek, to raise his gaze back to her. Instead, she let her hand rest gently on his upper arm, waiting patiently until he lifted his head and looked back at her.

"I'm stronger than this place," she whispered, unsure if she was telling him or telling herself. "And she's gone. So it doesn't matter what she did, because she can't hurt me anymore. Right?"

She stared at him, his eyes dark and intense, not entirely believing the things she said but needing him to believe that she was okay. And she was… mostly. He chewed on his bottom lip for a moment as the quiet built around them, before slowly nodding.

Outside there were cops and cowardly doctors, abused women, hungry people, a world full of walkers and decay and death. But in that moment, with his eyes on hers and the warmth of his skin under her hand, Beth had a hard time thinking of any of that. There were other things she wanted to tell him, questions she had about where he'd been since they were separated and how they'd all found each other. But she gave him a smile instead, for the moment unworried. There'd be time for all of that later.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Hopefully you've enjoyed it thus far. (: Reviews are always appreciated, but if you don't have something nice or constructive to say don't be a little bitch and say it anyway, ok? (:

xo, kaitiebee89


	6. Without a Fight

The next several days went by quickly for everyone but especially for Daryl who, in addition to spending time with Beth, had been putting his mechanical skills to good use in preparation for their approaching departure. With the begrudging permission of the cops who'd stepped up to lead the hospital in Dawn's place, Daryl began working on getting two abandoned vehicles in the parking lot working again, spending his mornings under the hood of a rusty white van and a turquoise pickup with a cab on it.

They still had the firetruck, its bright red body parked crookedly at the end of the lot beside an ambulance balanced on two flat tires. It would do for leaving, but Abraham said it only had a quarter tank of gas left, and in a truck that size Daryl doubted they'd get thirty miles out of the city with it.

In the evenings, after scarfing down something semi-edible and doing his best to wash up with buckets of tepid rain water on the roof, he'd come down to Beth's room and they'd go for walks around the halls. It was both a diversion for her and a way to build up the strength she'd lost. He tried not to think about the way her face lit up when he came in smelling like axle grease or gasoline, telling himself it was the exercise she was excited for, not him. She'd give him her arm, and with his hand cupped around her elbow they'd do slow laps, resting against the wall when she got tired or dizzy. They said very little, talking mostly about the walk itself, but every now and then she'd give him a smile that he felt in his knees and he'd lose whatever grasp he'd had on their conversational thread.

He didn't know what to make of those smiles or those feelings, and he sure as hell didn't know what to _do_ with them. She was _Beth Greene_ for God's sake, perhaps the only genuinely good person left on the planet. And he was just a dirty Dixon boy with a bad temper and redneck blood coursing through his veins who had no business feeling anything about her smiles.

But that didn't stop him from returning each night, hoping he'd catch a glimpse of another one.

Now, the night before they were to leave, he sat in his chair cleaning his bow with a rag he'd borrowed—and had no intention of returning—from a closet of cleaning supplies while Beth slept. Dr. Edwards had told her earlier that afternoon after removing her stitches and the cast on her wrist that although he'd like her to stay and recuperate longer she could leave the next day if she wished. The words were barely out of his mouth before she was racing to the bathroom to put on her own clothes, a response that didn't seem to surprise the doctor. While she was gone, he'd handed Maggie a plastic first aid kid.

"I collected some things she might need. Bandages, some antiseptic ointment, a few aspirin," he said conspiratorially, glancing through the open door into the hallway. Maggie had immediately opened the box and rummaged through it, her eyes widening slightly. "There's some other stuff too… just basic first aid equipment you might need when you're out there."

By the surprised look on Maggie's face, Daryl assumed the Doc had stockpiled some good stuff. As she flipped through the items, he caught glimpses of some scissors, a thick roll of tan gauze, handy wipes, and the blue edge of an instant chemical cold pack.

"Doctor, are you sure no one's going to notice you gave all of this to us?" Maggie asked.

The man shrugged with his hands in his pockets. "Eventually," he answered breezily. "But what are they going to do? Fire me?"

Maggie smiled sadly at his joke, snapping the kit shut and moving to put in her backpack. Daryl stared at him with anger and dismay as Maggie thanked him, reaching out to shake his hand. Of course they weren't going to fire him… he'd made sure of that when he had Beth take out his competition. A few band aids and some tweezers as a goodwill gesture weren't going to change that.

He was still angry about the doctor's tactless joke hours later, trying to lose himself in the calming and familiar motions of cleaning his bow when he was interrupted by a soft knock on the door. Daryl looked over to see Carol slip into the room with a plate of food in her hand.

"Hey," he said quietly. She smiled briefly in response, quietly placing a metal folding chair leaning against the wall beside his chair and sitting down.

"You need to eat something," Carol said by way of greeting, handing him the paper plate with a determined look on her face that dared him to argue with her. Grudgingly, he grabbed the plate and set it in his lap.

"What, no world famous Grady Memorial guinea pig?" He said looking down at the spread of tomato slices, saltine crackers, and peanut butter Carol had arranged on the plate. "No coleslaw? No peach cobbler?"

Carol rolled her eyes and swatted his shoulder playfully. "Shut up and eat your crackers." She nodded at Beth. "How's she doing?"

Beth was curled up on her side facing them, one arm tucked beneath the pillow and sleeping soundly. Her eyes moved rapidly beneath her closed eyelids, and not for the first time Daryl wondered what she was dreaming about.

"We went for a long walk," Daryl answered before shoving a small stack of the saltines in his mouth. "Tired her out."

Carol nodded and crossed her arms across her chest, leaning back in the chair. "Do you think she's well enough to leave?"

He swallowed, both of them looking at her sleeping form for a moment before he responded. "She wants to leave. Bad. If somethin' keeps us from leavin' tomorrow, she'll probably give us all the finger and walk out anyway, regardless of whether she's physically ready or not."

Carol mulled that over for a moment, looking amused at the idea of sweet little Beth Greene doing something so crass. "Well, she certainly looks better. Stronger."

Using a cracker as a spoon, Daryl scooped some peanut butter into his mouth. The meal, while only semi-stale, was also ridiculously dry. Before he had even fully formed the thought of thirst in his head, Carol was handing him a plastic water bottle, her eyes never leaving Beth. Daryl smiled to himself and took it from her, taking a long drink to try and remove some of the sawdust feel the crackers left in his mouth.

"I think she saved me," Carol said suddenly, her voice measured and serious.

Daryl picked at the plastic lip of the water bottle, looking over at her with a slight frown.

"What d'you mean?"

Carol shifted in her chair, watching Beth thoughtfully. "I mean, she was in the room with me when I woke up… first person I saw. Her back was against the door like she was watching over me or keeping someone out. She was the one who administered my medicine, too. Not the doctor."

A corner of Daryl's mouth lifted in a smile. "Sounds like her."

"I still can't believe you found her," Carol said with a shake of her head.

Daryl said nothing, mostly because he still had a hard time believing it too. Just the night before he'd woken up from a dead sleep sure that everything that had happened since they'd fled Terminus had been a dream. He'd reached out, brushing her fingers with his own, more than a little afraid that she'd disintegrate under his touch as nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

"I'm glad you did. And I'm glad it turned out okay," she continued.

"Yeah, me too."

"No, I'm serious Daryl. I know I wasn't exactly supportive in the beginning, but I should've known better. It wasn't just anyone out there looking for her, it was you. And you're pretty good at tracking things down. It's kind of your superpower." She gently bumped his arm with her elbow, giving him a teasing half-smile that he returned, annoyed at the heat he felt rushing to his cheeks. "Anyway, I see it now."

"See what?"

Carol gave him a pointed look, shifting her eyes from his face to Beth's and back again. It was obvious from the look on her face—head tilted to the side, eyes soft, the corners of her mouth turned slightly up—that she was trying to get him to admit something. But he wasn't sure what exactly that was. The silence that stretched between them was almost palpable while she looked at him, waiting for some kind of explanation or answer to a question he didn't understand. Eventually it was broken by Carol's amused chuckle as she stood slowly.

"Alright," she said, looking down at him and raising her hands in a surrendering gesture. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

With that she turned to leave and he watched her walk across the room on quiet feet, throwing him another strange smile over her shoulder as she closed the door behind her. His frown deepened and he looked back at Beth, directing his question at her sleeping form.

"Talk about _what_?"

* * *

Beth looked tense while she and Daryl waited inside her room for the rest of the group to join them a few hours later. She sat on the end of the bed with her ankles crossed in front of her, taking obvious and impatient glances at the clock on the wall and jiggling her foot rapidly.

Outside the sky was just beginning to lighten with the oncoming sunrise, providing an inky blue backdrop for the haggard remains of Atlanta's skyline. The plan was to be out of the parking lot and on the road before the sun came up, giving them the cover of semi-darkness to leave with and a full day of light to travel by. They'd be leaving any moment, but apparently that wasn't soon enough for Beth.

"What's wrong?" Daryl asked finally, half worried that if she kept jiggling her foot like that it was going to fly off.

She sighed and shook her head. "Nothing. I'm fine." He kept quiet but gave her a disbelieving look, which she responded to with an eye roll and a half smile. "I'm just ready to go."

That may have been true, but he didn't one hundred percent believe her behavior was based solely off of that desire. She was far too fidgety and on edge for that to be the case. There was something strange about the hollowness in her voice as well. And then he realized what it was.

She was scared. But of what? She had been raring to go since the moment she opened her eyes a week ago, so it couldn't be the thought of leaving a place of relatively walker-free safety. And she had to know nothing that fickle prick of a doctor said would keep them from leaving.

He pushed off of the wall and sat down gingerly beside her. A part of him wanted to throw an arm around her shoulders and comfort her, and he knew if he did so she'd let him. But something about his earlier conversation with Carol stopped him and made him keep a polite and slightly obvious distance between them on the bed. She didn't look at him as he sat down but she didn't move away either.

"These cops are not good people," she said, her voice sharp. "And I… I've done bad things while I was here. Things I had to do… but they're things they wanted to hurt me for. I'm worried that's still the case."

She looked sad and slightly nauseous. Daryl didn't know what else she'd done, nor did he particularly care. Whatever she'd had to do to protect herself was a non-issue as far as he was concerned, but seeing the obvious worry and pain on her face made him angry that she'd had to do it at all. Not to mention that picturing any of them trying to hurt her was making that haze of red start pulsating at the corners of his vision again.

"Nobody's gonna touch you," he growled in response, the words coming out with more force then he intended.

Beth shook her head again and dropped her hands to her lap, her voice softening. "It's not necessarily _me_ I'm worried about."

They both looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, but it was only a group of cops passing by. Two men looked in, their eyes dark and menacing as they stared Beth down, moving far too slowly past the open door to suggest their walk was an innocent or casual one. Beside him he felt Beth stiffen and Daryl gripped his crossbow tighter.

"They protect their own," he heard Beth mutter, her voice barely more than a whisper as the cops disappeared from view. He didn't think she'd even meant to say it out loud.

Daryl stood, stepping in front of her and blocking her view of the open door. She looked up at him confused and slightly startled.

"So do we," he said vehemently.

Just then the sounds of footsteps came echoing down the hallway, a symphony of boots, bags, and zippers clunking and shuffling toward them. Rick was barely in view before Beth was standing, leaning down to pick up the backpack at her feet and slinging it gamely over her shoulders.

"Ready?" Rick asked, glancing at both of them.

Beth smiled sweetly and nodded. She stepped into the hallway and let herself be absorbed into the middle of the group, not giving the room behind her a second glance. Daryl knew he was the only one who noticed the way her hands gripped the straps of her bag so tightly her knuckles turned white. He stayed close, walking just a step behind her.

The hall was filled with blue-grey shadows and characteristically empty, save for the doctor and two cops standing in front of the stairwell at the end of the hall. Officer Sheperd and a short, dark haired man with a wide face stood tall with their hands resting on top of their holstered guns. Daryl was momentarily amused picturing how Rick often stood that way, the relaxed posture simultaneously exuding authority. _Must be a cop thing,_ he thought. Beside him Beth subtly stiffened at the sight of them, but she said nothing, instead lifting her chin in a gesture of defiance.

"Good morning," Dr. Edwards said over the din of their approach. He waited until they had come to a stop before speaking again. "I'm here to see you off." Daryl watched his eyes shift, clearly looking for Beth. And judging by the focused way she stared at the back of Rick's head, she knew it too. He stuck out a hand which Rick shook half-heartedly. Sheperd took a step forward and spoke directly to Rick.

"This is Officer Furrows, he'll be assisting with your departure this morning," she said with a nod at her companion. "As we discussed yesterday, we'll be the two on the ground manning the gate and our sniper is already in position on the roof. He's been instructed to fire only if a walker manages to get through the gate."

"If that's his only purpose and both you and Officer Furrows are armed, I still feel a sniper is unnecessary and poses a direct threat to my group."

Sheperd chose to ignore this statement, continuing as if he'd never spoken. "I'd also like to reiterate one last time that once you leave those gates we will _not_ reopen them. If you get into trouble even half a block down the road, we will not help you. You'll be on your own."

"We understand," Rick said. He didn't sound angry or upset, just impatient to get going. The cop looked at him for a moment with a mixed expression of respect and disbelief before nodding. Without another word she turned towards the door with Furrows close behind, turning on a flashlight no bigger than her thumb and shining the dim yellow light into the darkened stairwell.

Daryl wasn't surprised when the doctor took a step closer to the group as they began walking past, his eyes on Beth. She turned her head towards him when he called out her name, frowning at the hand he was reaching out to her. Instantly Daryl moved to stand between them, an action that made the doctor snatch his hand back. Behind them the group continued to file towards the stairs.

"Beth, I…" Edwards started, opening and closing his mouth and looking remarkably like a balding, bespectacled fish.

"I have nothing to say to you," she said quietly, the hatred in her eyes so intense and focused that Daryl was surprised the man didn't burst into flames on the spot.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry," he said hurriedly. "It… it was wrong what I did."

"But _you_ didn't do it, did you?" Beth snapped, her voice raising enough to grab the attention of Abraham and Rosita walking past. She stepped closer. "You made _me_ do it. Not only that but you tried to make it look like it was my fault. My mistake, my clumsiness, my careless misunderstanding… as if I would ever treat another human life so callously."

Dr. Edwards flinched as she leaned her face closer to his and lowered her voice. For a moment Daryl was breathless, so similar was her posture and positioning from the moments leading up to her accident that he wanted to reach out and yank her back.

"You're a coward," she whispered venomously, "and a liar. You think that because you didn't beat me or Noah or rape the wards that you're innocent? You're no better than Dawn or Gorman or anyone else in this godforsaken place. And as much as I'd like to be there to see it, I have no doubt that your end won't be pleasant. Believe me when I say that knowledge is the only thing that's kept me from shoving a pair of scissors in _your_ neck."

They stared at one another for a tense moment; the doctor's face flushed red, speechless. There were plenty of things in Beth's speech that set off alarm bells in Daryl's mind, and he wanted to address all of them right then and there. After, of course, knocking a couple of the good doctor's teeth loose. But the last members of their family were entering the stairwell and, based on the anger rippling off of Beth, he was afraid if he stood there any longer she really would produce another pair of scissors and stab Edwards with them. He put a hand on her shoulder and pushed her gently away from the doctor and towards the door, relieved when she complied wordlessly.

The cops and their flashlights were already several floors below in the stairwell, making their descent a dark one that required holding onto the railing and blindly feeling their way down. Daryl kept an eye on what little of Beth he could see as they climbed down, her words playing on a scattered loop in his head.

 _…beat me or Noah or rape the wards… no better than Dawn or Gorman… beat me…Gorman… rape the wards…_

It was a long way down. Just when Daryl was starting to get antsy he heard the sound of a heavy fire door being pushed open, a dim, bluish light lighting up the ground floor below them and the smell of fresh air permeating the small space. Once outside, he stepped beside Beth and quickly scanned the open area for hidden danger with his finger on the trigger of his bow, leading her towards the pick-up truck.

The early morning air was chilly and Daryl felt Beth shiver. Around them people were piling into the van and fire truck as quickly and quietly as possible, their seats pre-planned by Rick and Carol the night before to make leaving more efficient. Maggie and Glenn were already at the truck, the passenger side door wide open and watching them approach. Without a word Beth moved towards them and climbed in the backseat with her backpack still on. She was quickly joined by her sister, the outlines of their heads framed by the dirty back window as Daryl headed to the driver's side.

Rick looked at him and Abraham, his eyes bright above the cloud of his greying beard. "Everyone clear on the plan?" He asked, as if it were possible that they weren't.

Both Daryl and Abraham nodded.

"Wait for my signal to start the engines. And if anything goes wrong or you need to stop, honk once. If all goes well we'll pull over and resituate ourselves back at the church."

Abraham gave a two fingered salute in response before climbing up into the fire truck. Daryl slid into the truck beside Glenn, turning his head to glance at the backseat. Beth gave him a tight smile, the fear she was trying so desperately to hide just barely visible behind her eyes. He nodded, trying to communicate silently that he understood, that it was okay, he was going to get her out of here just like he'd promised. Turning back to face the wheel he reached for the key and waited to turn it, his eyes on Rick.

After a moment where an obvious tally was taken to make sure everyone was accounted for in both vehicles, Rick looked quickly at each driver and gave them a nod. The roar of the fire truck coming to life made the van and pickup's start seem almost quiet. Rick pulled out of his spot quickly and headed for the gate, followed by Daryl and then Abraham. The two cops who had led them out of the stairwell stood at the gate. Sheperd had her gun out of its holster, eying a couple of stray walkers on the other side of the fence, but it was pointed at the ground and away from their approaching caravan. Furrows had his fingers laced through the chain link fence which he began sliding open as the van drove up.

Daryl glanced in the rearview mirror, only slightly surprised to find the pair of blue eyes he sought already looking at him, trapped in the slender rectangle of glass.

Rick directed the van through the gate and turned left toward the highway. Daryl did the same, not stopping to acknowledge the cops or the ruins of Atlanta they were leaving behind. As they cleared the gate, Daryl heard Beth let go of the breath she had been holding, feeling the exhale brush the hair at the back of his neck. He made sure the fire truck turned behind them and heard the rattle of the gate as it closed before pressing on the gas and driving away from the hospital.

He kept his face expressionless and continued to drive carefully out of the city, following Rick along the outskirts to avoid the herds that congregated in the center. But inside he felt ecstatic, relieved, and a little bit proud of himself and it was hard to keep a straight face. Because he'd done it. He'd gotten her back and he'd gotten her out. They weren't out of the woods yet—figuratively speaking—and he knew it was stupid to think that from now on things were going to go right for them. But it was incredible how easy it was to want to believe in that with her, hope incarnate, sitting in the backseat.

They pulled onto the exit ramp to drive down the car-free side of the freeway, the truck groaning as it picked up speed, Beth suddenly burst into laughter, earning curious and surprised looks from Glenn and Maggie. Daryl met her gaze one last time in the mirror, delighted to see that for a moment the fear and worry from the past few days had been replaced with an unbridled joy that made the corners of her eyes crinkle as she laughed.

Up ahead the sun was rising, the eastern skyline's washed out blue lightening with a pale yellow that reminded him of hope and a particular shade of blonde hair, and for a moment he forgot to be angry, his guard crumbling long enough to let a rare smile of his own bloom across his face.


	7. Heading North

She hadn't meant to start laughing, but the relief she felt as she watched the city shrink slowly behind them and the knowledge that she was truly and finally free of the hospital was immediate and overwhelming. The road stretched behind the truck like a long black tongue and before she knew it she was giggling, the slightly-manic sound loud and echoing around the small space. She didn't stop when Glenn and Maggie looked at her in surprise, their perplexed and bemused half smiles only making her laugh harder…

 _They always come back,_ Dawn's voice said smugly in her head. _Eventually they make a mistake and they always come back._

…and as suddenly as it had appeared the bubble of laughter died in her throat and she swallowed, feeling depleted and strangely hollow.

Turning back around in her seat she looked up in the rearview mirror and caught Daryl looking at her, his dark eyes just barely visible under the shaggy ends of his hair. It was a look she'd seen before, one that still disconcerted with how it made her feel vulnerable and exposed, transparent as glass. She wondered if he could in fact see through her down to the doubt and fear she was starting to worry she would never be rid of. And then, as if on cue, he smiled at her with unspoken reassurance and it was enough to quiet the voice that taunted her.

 _You were wrong Dawn,_ she thought. _I got out and there is nothing that will ever make me go back. I am finally free of you and your monsters._

She turned to gaze out the window and caught a glimpse of her reflection, the dark scars standing out against her pale skin, the shocking white of the bandage over her temple and above her ear. She softly touched the skin beneath the crescent shaped scar on her cheek and there was something, a twinge in her gut that said maybe the freedom she imagined wasn't necessarily the case.

They drove for more than an hour, driving as fast as possible through the long stretch of abandoned highway before pulling off onto back roads less likely to be infested with giant herds of walkers. Beth leaned her head against the window and watched the scenery fly by in a green and brown blur, taking deep breaths of the air that blew in from the crack in Daryl's window. She was tired and the sound of the wheels bumping along the uneven roads lulled her into a fitful doze where she dreamed of maze-like hallways and faceless figures that lurched at her from the shadows.

She jerked awake when she felt the truck slow, lifting her head as Father Gabriel's church came into view through the windshield. It was a quaint, picturesque white building with a steeple surrounded by Georgia woods, very classic and traditional. People began pouring out of the vehicles, stretching their legs and rolling their necks. Beth crawled out of Daryl's door and frowned as she took a closer look at the church, trying to look past the metal objects that guarded the door, the boarded up windows, and what looked like bullet holes in the glass at the top of the double doors. Something horrible had happened here, and based on the way Father Gabriel actively avoided looking at his church and how it didn't seem to surprise or bother anyone else, Beth was sure it had happened after the group crossed paths with him.

Rick pulled out a beat up old map from the glove compartment and unfolded it on the hood of the van while the group huddled around him. "Alright," he began earnestly. "Now we've all agreed that Virginia is a go. But we still need to discuss the best way of getting there." Beth leaned forward, ready to discuss their options when Maggie turned to her with Judith in her arms.

"Beth, could you take Judy?" She asked, handing her over before the words were out of her mouth.

Beth opened her mouth to protest even as her arms parted instinctively to accept the drooling baby. Maggie turned back with a half-smile as thanks, her back blocking Beth's view of the map and Judith began to whine. Frowning with annoyance, she shifted the baby to her hip and began bouncing her slightly to quiet her. After giving her the end of her ponytail to chew on, she peered over Carl's shoulder at the map, her eyes glazing over the pastel colors of different counties and crisscrossing lines.

So many places, so many different paths to take.

"I'm not opposed to taking a more direct route, even driving for chunks on the highway itself," Rick continued. "They're not going to be as congested or dangerous the farther north we go."

"Back roads are safer," Daryl said, pointing at a route on the map. "We can hit up the small, one street towns as we pass through for supplies if need be. They're probably not as picked over as some of the bigger towns neither."

"It'll take twice as long if we go that route," Glenn piped in. "And we've never been that far north. We don't have any idea what we're walking into, what the conditions of those country roads are going to be like."

"If we get stuck up shit-creek in the boonies we're that much farther from any kind of safety net," said Abraham, his low voice booming bluntly over the heads of the huddled group.

Michonne shook her head at him. "We've made it out there before. We can do it again if need be."

It was a familiar discussion, one that she had heard variations of dozens of times before. And with Judith alternately whining and babbling in her ear it was difficult to pay attention to the back and forth. Beth found herself watching Daryl as he spoke, the tip of his finger tracing over red and black lines on the map as he voiced his opinion. She liked seeing him like this, at ease and in control, liked hearing the confidence in his voice as he shared opinions she knew he sometimes struggled to feel like he deserved. Suddenly, Judith squealed in her ear and she refocused on the conversation, hearing Rick say:

"…tonight, that still leaves us with at least a full day of road between us and the next good place to stop. We've got enough food for tonight, but we're going to have to stop in one of these places to stock up and refuel."

"I might know of a place," Father Gabriel said suddenly from behind the group, flushing slightly as everyone's heads turned to look at him. He cleared his throat self-consciously before describing a small warehouse that had been boarded up and abandoned before the turn.

"I used to pass it on my way to visit a friend from seminary school who lived just north of Hiawassee," the preacher explained. "I think at one time it was rented by a cotton factory in Ganesville, but it's been boarded up for years. It's a pretty remote location, on the edge of the town just off of the main road. The likelihood of it being occupied is practically non-existent."

Daryl turned back to the map. "That would only take us to the border but we'd get there before sundown. There's good huntin' up there too. You're gettin' into remote mountain country, lots of mom-and-pop sporting goods stores and touristy shops people might not have thought to look in for supplies. Be good to start off a long journey like this prepared."

Beside him Rick was nodding, running a hand over the thick beard that obscured more than half of his face. After a moment he glanced up, his eyes flitting around the group.

"Anyone opposed?"

Beth glanced at Noah. He had kept quiet throughout the conversation, his face impassive. But the rapid blinking of his eyes betrayed his anxiousness. She could only imagine how hard it probably was for him to stand there and discuss travel options when all he wanted to do was go, to be moving forwards and towards his family.

"Alright," Rick said after a moment. "Then that's what we'll do."

The next fifteen minutes were spent reorganizing people and supplies, siphoning what little gas remained out of the firetruck and loading up the bed of the truck. Beth tried to help, but Maggie's insistence that she was too fragile for heavy lifting and Judith's rapidly deteriorating mood made that impossible. Soon the baby's cries sent them both into the front seat of the truck and she was forced to shut the door in order to muffle the sounds. She gave the baby her finger to nibble on and watched as everyone moved around busy as bees, feeling restless and irritated that the baby had been unloaded on her, feelings which were quickly followed by guilt and shame when Judith leaned her warm head back against Beth's chest and sighed in momentary contentment. She leaned down to kiss the top of Judith's head in apology, her scent and familiarity filling her with a strange, sudden sadness that sat in her chest like lead.

 _Pull it together, Greene,_ she thought to herself, angrily wiping away a tear that rolled down her cheek. _Do you even know what you're crying for?_

A few moments later Maggie, Glenn, and Carl were climbing into the backseat of the truck while Noah, Tara, and Eugene made themselves comfortable amongst the bags and equipment in the truck bed. Daryl slid in place beside Beth, taking one look at her face and giving her a searching look that she quickly dismissed with a smile. She was fine. Everything was fine. He nodded once, though he looked far from convinced and turned the key in the ignition, metal grinding against metal as he shifted the truck into gear and began following the van towards the road.

They left as quickly as they had arrived, leaving only a bright red fire truck behind as a sign that they'd been there at all.

* * *

The mid-afternoon sun was hot as they followed the battered road signs north into Hiawasee. They drove with the windows rolled down, the roar of the air that blew in making conversation difficult. Beth could feel a bead of sweat roll lazily down her spine and she sighed, missing the morning's cool temperatures.

Other than a minor roadblock of two crashed cars about an hour north of Father Gabriel's church, the day's journey had gone smoothly and they had made good time. It wouldn't be long before they reached their destination and set up camp for the night, and Beth was itching to get out of the confined space of the truck. She wanted to walk around outside, to lean her back against the rough bark of a tree and take deep, unhurried breaths of fresh forest air to replace the sharp smell of hospital she couldn't seem to rid from her nostrils.

Her eyes flicked again to the side mirror of the truck, watching the broken yellow lines get smaller and smaller as they drove past them. She didn't want to admit to herself that she was scanning for dark colored cars with white crosses, unable to shake the feeling that any moment angry cops would descend upon them in a flurry of gunfire and violence to exact their revenge.

 _Let them come if they want,_ she thought with bravado she didn't feel, tightening her hold both on the baby in her lap and the knife at her hip as she did so.

"You alright?"

Daryl was looking at her again, his eyes moving back and forth from the road to her face. She swallowed and nodded, berating herself for being so transparent.

"I'm fine," she said, offering up a reassuring smile. "Little tired."

"Your head hurt?"

"No." He looked at her sideways and raised his eyebrows in disbelief. She rolled her eyes, annoyed that she was so easily caught in her own lie. "Ok, a little. But it's not that bad."

Daryl began absentmindedly drumming his fingers on the wheel. "We're almost there… get you some meds soon."

Beth looked over her shoulder into the backseat to see all three fast asleep. She could make out the back of Noah's head and Tara's profile through the back window, but Eugene was blocked by Glenn and Maggie. With them asleep, she felt comfortable asking:

"Daryl? What happened to Father Gabriel's church?"

He too glanced in the rearview mirror and kept quiet for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. "It's a long story," he said finally.

"I've got some time," she said back cheekily. Every question she had asked back at the hospital about where they'd been had been met with vague and glazed over non-answers that only fueled her curiosity. She was sure it was all Maggie's doing, an over bearing if well-meaning gesture to protect her from things she thought Beth couldn't handle. With her asleep, it might be the only opportunity Beth had to get some answers.

"There was this place we all ended up at… after," Daryl said after a moment. "A railroad junction… people livin' there called it Terminus. They'd posted all these signs along the tracks luring people in, promisin' safety and survival and we'd all followed 'em from different areas thinkin' maybe we'd run into each other." He paused and Beth's stomach sank a little, knowing the story she was about to be told was not a good one. "They were bad people. Real sick, twisted bastards. Brought in people and used 'em as a food source."

There was little in this world anymore that could shock, but Beth felt her mouth fall open with surprise. Cannibalism? Seriously? Beside her Daryl continued his story, quietly describing the horrors of Terminus, Carol's explosive rescue, and the consequent herd that had swept through and destroyed what little of the place was still standing as they'd made their escape.

"The few that were left followed us to the church a day or so later and took Bob. They cut off his leg and ate it in front of him before they brought him back. He died in the church with Sasha and everyone from a bite he'd gotten on an earlier food run. I guess afterwards there was a pretty bloody showdown inside the church. Our people killed who was left."

Beth swallowed back the bile and sadness that was quickly rising in her throat. She had always liked Bob. He'd reminded her a little bit of her father. She shook her head at his unbelievably cruel death and the violence that had ensued, at the never ending cycle of blood and death.

"Wait," she said suddenly. "You _guess_?"

"I wasn't there," Daryl answered.

"Where were you?" Another pause, this one stretching into a silence she wasn't sure he would break.

"I was lookin' for you," he said finally, meeting her eyes across the bench seat. She felt her heart begin to pound in her chest under his gaze, at the weight his words carried. Of course he had been looking for her. He probably had been from the moment Gorman dumped her in his car at the funeral home and drove her away. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth and solidness of him under her fingers because she was suddenly having trouble thinking of words to say in response.

Up ahead the van's break lights flashed and turned left at a crossroads. Daryl turned his attention back to the road and followed suit while Beth glanced at the faded sign on the corner, its solid black arrow pointing left towards the town. Judith squirmed in her lap and gave a squawk to signal her boredom.

"Almost there baby girl," Beth whispered at the top of Judith's head. "We're almost there."


	8. Something That Could Break

The warehouse was just as Father Gabriel had described; a square, dark red brick building that sat on the outskirts of the town with forest rising up on either side of it like green walls. Gravel and untamed scrub grass crunched under the tires as they pulled up behind it, parking out of sight of the dusty grey road.

Daryl joined Rick, Sasha, Michonne, and Tyreese for a sweep of the building while the rest of the group waited in the cars, moving on silent feet around the perimeter with his crossbow raised and keeping an eye on the surrounding woods.

It wasn't much to look at, inside or out. Just an old two-story, squat building covered in a decade's worth of peeling graffiti and several more recent, desperate messages for people's loved ones scrawled across the sides. A few high windows sat open and black, looming like missing teeth in a child's mouth in the building's crumbling façade. All of the lower floor's windows were boarded up from the inside, however, and covered on the outside with a thick, rusty metal mesh that had been bolted to the window frames. There were two entrances, a side door attached to a fire escape on the top floor and a main entrance with two large, metal doors that bled trails of rust from the hinges and into the foundation. A heavy chain and padlock was wrapped around the handles.

Behind the building there was a loading dock, a narrow and open cement block with a set of cement stairs built into the side all covered by the sagging roof's overhang. Nature had long ago taken over the space, weeds and plant life growing up the sides and poking through cracks in the pavement. There were two metal doors where trucks would unload their cargo once upon a time, flaking and corroded by wind and rain but locked up tight. The back of the warehouse looked out over a thin strip of pavement, beyond which was nothing but forest. The nearest buildings were almost a block away, their walls just barely visible through the trees from the edge of the lot.

They got in through the side door, sending a bullet through the lock to bust it open before doing a thorough sweep of space that was dark and dusty with abandonment. A single, open room with a cement floor that smelled like mildew and bird-shit, it was empty save for a few wooden pallets, the scratching of mice, and the disgruntled flapping of the birds they disturbed. Daryl looked at the mostly solid walls, the dim lighting, and the grimy floor and sighed. They'd stayed in worse places.

"All clear up here," Rick said, his voice booming from above as he and Michonne walked down the creaky stairs.

"When are we thinking about doing a run?" Tyreese asked as his eyes scanned the ceiling, swatting a thick cobweb out of his face.

"Tomorrow," Rick answered. His voice sounded assertive but he glanced at Daryl, gauging his opinion anyway. Daryl nodded in agreement. "We're running out of daylight. For now let's just get settled and get a fire going."

"I'm gonna go hunt," Daryl announced once they had reconvened outside, a signal from Rick sending the rest of the group into motion. He nodded and gave him a quick pat on the back.

"Thanks brother," he said. "Be careful out there."

Daryl glanced over at Beth who stood with one hand on the truck's open door and the other supporting Judith on her hip. She was watching him, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Hunting?" She asked as he approached, though it was more of a statement than a question.

He nodded and reached out to ruffle the fine blonde hairs on the baby's head, smiling at the cooing sounds she made in response. He let her grab his thumb and both he and Beth watched for a moment as Judith examined it, running damp, drool covered fingers over the bumps and ridges with fascination. Suddenly she looked up at Daryl and babbled something, sounding awfully bossy for a 12-month old.

Beth smiled. "She's telling you to come back safe." She raised her eyes to Daryl's and bit her bottom lip in thought for a moment, her smile fading. "And so am I."

She had that look, the one that made him feel unsteady and turned down the volume of the rest of the world. Her mouth was set in a serious, no-nonsense line that forbade him from not returning, but her eyes were clear and shining. He had no choice but to come back to eyes like those.

"I promise," he said simply, sounding a lot cooler than he felt. Then he turned for the woods, feeling her eyes follow him even after the trees swallowed him up.

Dusk had fallen when he returned almost two hours later, seven squirrels tied to a string that hung off of his belt loop. It was hardly his greatest haul, but it would supplement what little they already had in the way of canned goods.

Abraham stood on the landing at the top of the metal stairs that hugged the building, leaning on the butt of his gun. "The mighty hunter returns," he drawled as Daryl climbed the stairs two at a time, laughing when the mighty hunter threw him the finger.

"We all set?" Daryl asked once he reached the top. He looked in the open door at the circle of people, bags, and bedrolls set up in his absence. A small fire burned merrily from within the confines of a dented metal trashcan, positioned underneath a ragged opening in the roof. People sat around it, some perched on dragged over wooden pallets and others lounging against backpacks or leaning against one another in a series of overlapping limbs.

"Yeah, we're good. Sasha's down on the loading dock on watch, said she wanted to pull a double shift," Abraham said.

Daryl nodded, unsurprised. All of Sasha's normal anger and stubbornness had been kicked up a notch in the wake of Bob's death, and she'd been pushing herself hard to keep busy. He worried though, recognizing the way she was pulling away by lashing out despite Tyreese's best efforts to keep her close. It was a signature Dixon move.

Abraham cocked his head towards the door. "Soup's on."

"And by soup you mean…"

Abraham smirked. "Spam and canned corn." The big man laughed again, presumably at the expression on Daryl's face. He had a hard time pretending to be excited about Spam. "There was also talk of pickles."

Daryl sighed before giving the ex-soldier a pat on the shoulder and stepping inside. So far he was impressed with the red-headed army man. He may have been a bit of a pill in terms of getting what he wanted, but the man got things accomplished. Daryl also appreciated his colorful way with words and recognized how valuable his ferocity and military expertise were to the group's survival.

Heads turned to acknowledge him as he entered the room, smiling as he wordlessly raised the string of furry carcasses for everyone to see. Unconsciously his eyes scanned the circle until they made contact with Beth, sitting cross legged between her sister and Noah. He detected a hint of relief in her features, her shoulders slumping forward slightly in a relaxed gesture that made his ears burn. She'd been worried about him. Her face broke into a grin and he could only swallow in response.

From across the circle Carol stood and immediately followed him over to the corner where she'd cleared an area to prepare whatever he caught. He dropped the squirrels where she pointed before taking his bow off of his back and squatting down to begin cleaning his kill but Carol shook her head.

"I got it," she said. "Go eat something."

"I don't mind…" he tried to protest, knowing by the defiant spark in her eye that he'd already lost the battle. He sighed with fake-irritation but she only smiled. "At least get the kid to help you," he said.

Carol nodded and called out Carl's name from over her shoulder. The boy ambled over instantly, his face eager underneath the brim of his beat up sheriff's hat and already unsheathing the knife at his belt. Daryl shook his head in amusement and gave the boy's shoulder an affectionate punch before walking over to the warmth of the fire.

He sat down in the spot Carol had vacated, his muscles heavy with weariness, and took the large open can Rosita handed him with a nod of thanks. The smoke of the fire masked the dust and vermin smell from earlier, and he was struck by how its warm glow illuminating the faces of his family made the strange space feel familiar. As much like home as they could possibly get. After two spoonfuls of corn that tasted more like can than vegetable, he passed it on to Tyreese.

He tried to engage himself in the conversation going on around him that for once was lighthearted, laughter and dramatic hand gestures stemming from some story he had missed about Tara's childhood. But his eyes kept flicking across the circle to Beth. He didn't seem to have much control over it and it made him feel foolish, weak, like some love-struck school boy making googly eyes at the prettiest girl in class. Even worse was when she'd catch him looking, their eyes meeting for brief moments over the flickering flames before he'd rip his gaze away.

 _Real smooth, Dixon,_ he berated. He heard Carol's words from the night before in his head again, thought of the knowing looks Rick gave him when Beth's name came up. He shook his head, determined to get a hold of himself. Nothing was going on between him and Beth. They were friends now, close in ways they never were before the fall of the prison certainly. But that was it. Those feelings he thought he felt were just the effects of someone caring about the person he was, about what happened to him, something he'd had little experience with in his life.

 _Ain't nobody gonna care about you 'cept me, little brother,_ Merle's voice whispered right on cue. _Ain't nobody ever will._

Maggie was also keeping a close eye on Beth, asking her constant quiet questions about how she felt. Had she eaten enough, did her head hurt, did she want some medicine, was she tired? Daryl could see the worry on her face offset by the increasing tightness on Beth's and he couldn't help but wonder why Maggie suddenly felt the need to coddle her little sister. Even knowing what he knew about what Beth had been through—perhaps especially because of that—he knew that Beth was the last person on earth who needed coddling. Girl could take care of herself.

Beth passed her sister a can which quieted her for a moment as the fire popped, releasing a shower of orange sparks into the air. She glanced up at him through the confetti-like burst and he saw it, that look he'd been replaying over and over in his mind since she'd been taken. The firelight on her face, her eyes wide and honest, she was looking at him like he was the only thing worth looking at in the entire world. It made his stomach churn in a way that was both delightful and unbearable in its intensity.

 _C'mon little brother… we both know you the ugliest sumbitch in the great state of Georgia,_ Merle's voice taunted in his head, chuckling with spite and irritation. _Miss Skinny-Britches ain't lookin' at you like nothin', and she sure as hell ain't got nothin' she gonna give to you._

He knew Merle wasn't there, knew that the voice he sometimes heard was all in his head, a horrible figment of his imagination. But he also couldn't shake the feeling that it was right. Feeling antsy under her penetrating gaze and the voice of his brother, he left the circle after a few more passes of bland, canned food, taking a pickle sliver and his crossbow with him out onto the landing to relieve Abraham from his watch.

He watched as night leached the last of the light from the sky, replacing it with thousands of tiny white stars and munched on his pickle. He spent the next hour letting the cacophony of nighttime sounds drown out his brother and his own thoughts, calming himself in the cool air and the familiar motions of watch duty and telling himself over and over again that he felt nothing for Beth.

He sincerely hoped that if he said it enough times, eventually he'd believe it.

Tyreese came out once with a half-full can of food for Sasha. Daryl could hear the sound of their voices in the dark, the low, pleading tones of Tyreese urging his sister to eat, to rest, to let him take over. Sasha said little but it was clear she had no intention of leaving her self-assigned post. Tyreese came trudging back up the stairs a few minutes later looking defeated, the can still in his hand.

It was a long while before he heard the singing, female voices barely discernable through the heavy door. Curious he slowly nudged it open and peeked in to see Maggie, Tara, and Rosita singing a rousing version of Sweet Home Alabama, clapping their hands to the beat with grins on their faces. God only knew what had inspired the sing-along, but judging by the collective smiles and laughter no one seemed to mind.

Suddenly Carl was banging out the beat and snippets of the song's signature melody on the wooden palette he sat on with two forks, a sight that made his father throw back his head with laughter and prompted the girls to stand. Suddenly their impromptu sing-along was a full-fledged performance, one they struggled to get through when Abraham, in a fit of uncharacteristic playfulness, added background vocals in an impressive falsetto and Glenn stood up to dance with Maggie. Judith clapped her hands delightedly from Rick's lap, pleased with the deviation in routine.

It was a heartwarming scene to witness and Daryl caught himself smiling. Even so, he was glad he could participate from the edges, viewing everyone's happiness and smiling faces and, most importantly, avoid being teased by Michonne into singing. He looked at where Beth sat, expecting her to be singing along. She was quiet, alternately looking into the fire and up at the singing women with a tight, thin-lipped smile on her face. He thought she looked sad.

He moved away from the crack in the door when the song came to an end and quiet applause and conversation started up in its place, leaning back against the cool brick and scanning the silent woods around the building again. His thoughts lingered on the way Beth had refused to sing, the faint way she'd smiled along, as if she too was participating from the edges even as it happened all around her.

Suddenly the door swung open and Beth stepped out, shutting the door behind her. She flashed him a hesitant smile.

"Hey," she said.

He nodded at the door. "Quite a show in there."

"Oh yeah," she chuckled. "Nothing like a little Skynyrd to get the party going."

She stepped in front of him and leaned against the metal rails surrounding the landing with her hands behind her back. A long, thin stripe of orange light escaped through a crack in the door and danced down the length of her body.

"You didn't sing."

She stopped smiling and looked down, shuffling the toe of her boot on the grated metal. "No," she said. "I guess I didn't feel like it."

He thought back to what she'd spat at the doctor that morning as they'd left the hallway, the weight of what she'd let slip and the words he hadn't been able to get out of his head. He knew now that worse things than unknowingly killing that injured doctor had happened to her. It was bad enough to know that she'd been beaten and forced to murder. The possibility that someone had raped her was almost too much to stomach.

Whatever it was, she wore the experience on her skin like a tattoo and it had changed her. It was obvious to him. He wondered why no one else seemed to notice.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to," he said finally, shattering the tense silence that stretched between them. "What happened… or what didn't. I'll be here either way."

Beth took a step forward and cocked her head to the side, looking up at him with unblinking eyes. "Same goes for you," she whispered.

Daryl knew she realized there was more to the story of what had happened in their time apart, that there was far more violence and pain than she was being exposed to. Unlike her sister he wasn't consciously trying to keep her from it, he just wanted to forget it. Joe and the Claimers, all the horrible, nightmare shit at Terminus, every bad and ugly thing he'd encountered since she'd been taken… he wanted desperately to shake himself free of it and ultimately knew that he never would. So he tried to bury it instead, to push it down deep the way he used to, and yet he still wondered if she could see it all on him too.

Daryl didn't see her arm move, didn't notice her hand reaching out to touch him until it landed softly on his cheek. Her thumb immediately began tracing the lingering, yellowed remains of his black eye, brows briefly furrowing with concern. A strange storm of discomfort and exhilaration raged in his chest underneath her scrutiny and he had to fight the natural urge to flinch away from the whisper light touch of her fingertips.

It was just that she was so _close_. At the hospital their proximity had always been dictated by hospital equipment or patrolling cops or visiting family members, and whatever time they'd spent alone together had had a specific purpose. It was overwhelming how close she was after all this time, surrounded by quiet and darkness, to feel her hands on him of their own volition and not because she needed someone to guide or hold her up.

It was just like her to invade his personal space like this as well, to reach up and cup his face in her hands like _he_ was something delicate, something that could break if mishandled. He could feel the warmth of her breath as it escaped in quickly dissipating clouds of vapor into the chill around them, floating and marrying with his own. He felt a twist deep in the pit of his stomach as her gaze shifted from his injury to his eyes.

"You went through hell… trying to find me," she whispered, her expression almost defiant, daring him to deny it.

She wasn't technically wrong. Daryl wasn't much for faith in any capacity, but if he had to envision a setting for Hell downtown Atlanta was pretty damn close. Even so, he wanted to lie to her and tell her it had been a piece of cake. There was something different about her, something sharp in her gaze and menacing in her stance that hadn't been there before, and he was afraid of what would come about if he told her the truth.

But with her hand on his cheek like that, looking up at him with that mix of concern and empathy and defiance that was undeniably Beth, he couldn't bring himself to. He couldn't stomach the thought of filling her head with vagueness and bullshit, especially when he knew how easily she would see through it.

"Naw," he said quietly. "Just Atlanta."

He watched as her face shifted with surprise, the corners of her mouth twitching involuntarily. A smile found its way onto his own face in response.

"Daryl Dixon, did you just make a joke?"

He shrugged his shoulders, relishing the tiny spark of delight that flared up in her eyes. Dropping her gaze to her feet with a small shake of her head, Beth let her hand slide from his stubbly cheek and shoved it back in the warmth of her jacket pocket.

" _Now_ I've officially seen it all," she said, flashing him a smile.

"I'm a man of many talents," he delivered in a flat tone that elicited another laugh.

It was quiet for a moment, a pleasurable silence with a slight charge to it that he attributed to her continued closeness. He wondered if she felt it too, why she didn't step away. Wondered why he didn't want her to.

"So," she said eventually. "South Carolina tomorrow."

Daryl nodded. Their chosen route would take them through the south western tip of South Carolina and up into its northern counterpart. If all went well, they'd be an hour or so outside of the North Carolina – Virginia border the same time tomorrow night. "Yep."

She grinned knowingly. "You ready?"

Truthfully, he wasn't sure and he suspected that's why she was bringing it up. She knew it was the first time he'd be leaving Georgia. And while there was plenty that he was leaving behind, good and bad, it wasn't like the things that had tied him to it were around anymore. But it was still the only place he'd ever known, a home he'd likely never see again. He shrugged his shoulders in response.

"It'll be okay," Beth said kindly. "Nothin' to it." He was suddenly very glad that she would be sitting beside him when they left.

"I guess I should go back inside," Beth said a few moments later, her voice barely more than a murmur.

Daryl nodded. He didn't want her to leave. "It's late. Long day."

She made no attempt to move from her spot and continued to stare at him. He stared back and the thought crossed his mind that maybe she didn't really want to go back inside. That maybe what she wanted—what she needed—was an invitation to stay outside with him.

"Or you could…"

Just then the door slid open and Maggie's head peeked around the door, visibly relaxing when her eyes landed on Beth.

"There you are," she said quietly, a hint of exasperation in her voice. "I was worried."

It took her a second to notice the lack of distance between her sister and Daryl, but when she did her eyebrows twitched in obvious curiosity. Shifting his crossbow on his shoulder, he took a subtle step backwards, looking back at Beth just in time to catch a glimmer of annoyance in her eyes that she quickly replaced with a smile.

"I'm just chatting with Daryl," she said to Maggie. "I needed some air."

Maggie eyed them both for a long moment before pushing open the door wider. "Ok," she said slowly. "Well we're getting ready to go to sleep in here."

"I'm not really tired," Beth said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"I know," Maggie replied, as if she actually did. "But we've got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. And Dr. Edwards said you needed as much rest as possible. At least come in and try to get some sleep. For me, Bethy?"

Daryl could see the now obvious irritation in the tenseness of Beth's jaw as she bit back whatever it was she wanted to say to her sister, her eyes darkening considerably at the sound of her nickname. Finally she nodded and Maggie smiled, pleased.

"Michonne said she'll be out soon for the next watch," she informed Daryl before slipping quietly back inside, leaving the door open behind her like an unspoken command.

Beth sighed and stepped away from him, pausing with her hand on the partially open door. "I'm just… adjusting," she said quietly. It took him a moment to realize she was talking about why she hadn't sung earlier. She looked up at him with eyes that even in the faint light he could see were suddenly sad again. "I know that probably sounds stupid. But I turned something on back at the hospital to get through. And even though I don't need it quite as badly anymore now that I'm with everyone…" She trailed off, looking down at her feet. "I just don't think I can turn it back off."

He chewed on his bottom lip and regarded her silently for a moment. He knew what she meant and he could see how clearly it bothered her. If he were a braver man, he'd close the distance between them and wrap his arms around her, give her something to pour the sadness and worry into. But he wasn't. So he nodded instead, trying to silently communicate to her that he understood. It seemed to be enough because she gave him a small, grateful smile before she stepped back inside, closing the door behind her and leaving him alone in the darkness.

* * *

A/N: A variation of this chapter was actually the inspiration for the entire story, and was originally written slightly differently. The original was inspired by the song Shut Up and Dance by Walk the Moon if you can believe that, and while I like that version a lot the playful use of the lyrics in that song and having Beth and Daryl dance outside the warehouse didn't really fit once I wrote the other chapters and started mapping out where I wanted the story to go. When I get a little farther into posting the later chapters, I was thinking of posting the original as a stand-alone.

Additionally, if anyone is interested, here is the link to my Walking Dead inspiration playlist. Personally I'm always interested in the kinds of music people listen to when writing fanfiction or creating fanart and figured I'd share the songs that remind me of Beth and Daryl and their relationship/the relationship I've created for them. (:

user/124801066/playlist/38AkKpC3bYXSNygMeRVjTF

Anyway, I hope you're enjoying reading. Review/comment!

xo, kaitiebee89


	9. What Sasha Said

Beth was lying when she said she wasn't tired. She was exhausted and her head hurt, and she knew sleep would offer a reprieve from the headache and incessant itching at her temple. But she also knew what would happen when she closed her eyes. People were already treating her like she was one crack away from shattering into a million pieces. The last thing she needed was to have them pitying her because she woke up screaming, plagued even in sleep by the twisted memories she couldn't escape from.

Instead she lay curled up beside her sister's warmth on a grey tarp that crinkled whenever she moved and listened to the dying pops and crackles of the fire, thinking about what had happened on the fire escape. She was surprised by her own boldness, unsure of what had possessed her to touch his face, what had made her step so close that she could feel his warm breath on her face. It was clear that he knew something was wrong and that there were things she wasn't telling him, and the searching look of concern and kindness he gave her had her head spinning.

She wondered, sometimes, if the things she thought she felt about him were misguided, completely off base with reality. That maybe the friendship they had forged while out on the road was _only_ that. That she'd built up all of the lingering looks and moments in her head to be bigger, to mean more than they actually did. It was crazy to think that Daryl might want her or see her as anything more than a friend.

But then she'd catch him looking at her like he had tonight over the fire and again on the fire escape. Like she was the only thing keeping him rooted to the ground, like she was something special, and she'd feel butterflies beat their wings furiously in her stomach. Truthfully, they were getting harder and harder to ignore.

The next thing Beth knew she was falling through darkness so thick and black it felt alive, as if she were falling through someone's shadow. She tried to scream, more out of surprise than terror, but nothing came out. She kicked and clawed, trying to find purchase on something tangible, but her body fell quickly and unimpeded, the darkness sliding through her fingers like water.

Finally something caught her, cradling her in two arms like an infant. Grey, florescent lights flickered to life around her, blinding after so much blackness. She was about to thank her savior, but he spoke first.

"It's customary that when someone does something nice for you, you say thank you. But if that doesn't suit you, I bet we can work something out… right Bethy?"

A violent chill racked her spine and her heart ceased its frantic beating, turning to a block of ice in her chest when she looked up and saw Gorman grinning lasciviously down at her.

She flung herself out of his arms and began running as fast as she could into the depths of the hospital, searching through the maze of hallways for an exit or a room that she could hide from him in. The sounds of pursuit grew louder behind her, a chorus of heavy footfalls that made her dizzy with fear even as she forced herself to run harder. The corridor stretched out in front of her, never seeming to end, and suddenly the door she had been running towards disappeared leaving behind a blank wall in its place.

Panting heavily she had no choice but to turn around, pressing her back against the wall to see a multitude of familiar faces stalking towards her. There was Gorman, of course, leading the group and laughing as his hands loosened the buckle of his belt. Beside him were Dawn, slapping a belt into the palm of her hand and shaking her head from side to side, and Joan, already dead, lunging towards her with blood dripping onto the floor from the ragged stump of her arm. Beth tried once more to scream and began choking on a stream of green lollipops that fell from her mouth instead, scattering across the dingy linoleum like chips of green glass.

She awoke with a start, the scream still caught in her throat. It prickled there, a ball of panic pressing against her vocal cords and threatening to burst free.

 _It was a nightmare_ , she told herself again and again. _Just another nightmare._

She clamped her lips tightly together to keep the scream from escaping and focused on catching her breath. The smell of roasting meat filled her nostrils, immediately making her stomach grumble and dulling the shadowy fear that she could feel clinging to her skin like cobwebs. Outside dawn was fast approaching and filling the room with blue-grey light. Around her she could hear others stirring. Rubbing the sleep and shadows from her eyes she slowly sat up, seeing Carol and Noah cooking the squirrel over the re-born fire. She stood and walked over to them yawning.

"Need any help?" She asked quietly, hoping they thought her voice sounded thick with sleep and not fright.

Carol gave her a smile and shook her head, turning her makeshift spit. "No, baby," she said, the kindness in her voice so soothing and reminiscent of her mother it made her breath hitch. "We've got it under control. Besides Noah's proving to be a very good cook."

"And by that she means, 'boy can turn a good stick'," Noah said drily, making both his female companions laugh. Beth sat down beside them and took a long drink of water from a blue plastic bottle at Noah's side.

"I've been meaning to thank you, Beth," Noah said quietly a moment later, his focus never straying from the fire. She frowned at him, confused. "What you did back at the hospital… I know it wasn't all for me, but it was partially. You could have died standing up for me. And… and all of this, now?" He gestured with his free hand around the room at her sleeping family. "I'm finally getting to go home. To see my Moms again, my little brothers… to someplace better than I've been. And that's all because of you."

She shook her head. Everything he said sounded true, but she was unwilling to believe she was the only reason any of it had happened. He wouldn't accept her silent humility though, grabbing her hand and looking her straight in the eyes so she had no choice but to accept his gratitude.

"Thank you," he said, squeezing her hand hard.

She bit her lip, nodding. "You're welcome," she whispered. Then she laid her head on his thin shoulder and watched the meat cook over the flickering orange flames while the group slowly came to life around them.

They discussed strategy for completing the run over breakfast, picking the meat straight off the bones of the shared carcasses with their fingers. Father Gabriel shared what he knew of the small town's set up, mentioning a few spots worth checking out. Rick looked around the circle and called out names to go, ending up with Daryl, Sasha, Maggie, Glenn, and himself.

"Me too," Beth piped in, wiping her hands on her jeans before standing up after the others.

Maggie turned to her and hesitated, her face instantly shifting to disapproval. "Beth, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" She had expected her sister to protest but it didn't make her feel any less exasperated.

"You're injured, for one," Maggie said, as if Beth had forgotten. "I don't want you to overexert yourself. Plus who's going to watch Judith while we're gone?"

"Judith will be just fine with whoever stays behind," Beth answered, her words clipped with annoyance at her sister's suggestion that Judith was only her responsibility. She loved the baby, and she loved taking care of her—it was the only chance at being a mother she would probably ever have. But she was tired of sitting around like a helpless housewife, baby on her hip, being treated like that's all she was good for. The days where she sat behind watching her family put themselves in daily danger to put food in her belly or keep her safe were over. Plus, after the dazzling dreams she'd been having, she needed to remind herself that she wasn't helpless. "I'm going on the run, Maggie. That's it. End of story."

* * *

The downtown area was comprised of four blocks intersected by a crossroads. The buildings were either centuries old like the warehouse or low, box-like buildings with wide aluminum siding in varying shades of brown. They walked quietly into the intersection with weapons at the ready and scanned the deserted streets. A mile or two down the road Beth could see the unmistakable figure of a walker in a ragged dress, meandering aimlessly, dragging a foot that hung off the end of its leg at a cringe-worthy angle. It didn't see them yet, and with the coast otherwise clear Beth loosened her grip on the handle of her knife.

"Me and Sasha will check this block here with the gas station and liquor store," Rick said, dropping his gun to his side and addressing the group. He gestured towards their left. "Maggie, you and Glenn hit up the pharmacy down on the corner. Daryl and Beth can scavenge the grocery store. We meet back here in an hour. Anyone runs into any problems give a holler… we're close enough to hear one another."

Everyone nodded and they separated. Beth caught Maggie staring at her, not bothering to hide her disagreement with the arrangement. She gave her sister a tight smile and turned in the opposite direction towards the store.

"Your sister's none too pleased," Daryl said when they were a little ways down the road. Beth thought he sounded amused.

"She's just worried," Beth sighed dismissively. "But I want to do this. I _need_ to do this. And it's not like she can lock me up or keep me housebound."

"Yeah, just look at how that worked out for the last people that tried that." Daryl said with raised eyebrows. Beth smiled at him, surprised, and he bumped her arm with his elbow. "C'mon," he said, nodding his head towards the very quaint and old-timey grocery store approaching on their right. It was one of the older buildings, the painted words "General Store" still visible on the brick on top of the modern sign that hung above the door. "Let's see what canned delicacies Harding and Sons have to offer."

It turned out that Harding and Sons had exactly three dented cans of tuna, four cans of off-brand kidney beans, and a family-size can of peaches in heavy syrup that had rolled under a shelf and been forgotten about. They also scooped up a crumpled box of Cheerios, a couple packs of flashlight batteries, a roll of gauze, a Swiss-Army knife, and two packs of spearmint flavored gum.

The store was dark, dusty, and cramped, and it smelled stale from disuse. Most of the shelves were no higher than Beth's chin, making it fairly easy to deduce what was there and usable and what wasn't, and it had been picked over pretty well. Beth felt a wave of contentment rush over her as she carefully picked her way through the deserted store with Daryl, thinking of how much like before it felt. Just him and her, partners in survival, picking their way through abandoned spaces and looking out for the other. She didn't realize she was grinning until she caught a glimpse of Daryl's face, looking at her with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

"What?" He asked her.

She shrugged her shoulders, not letting the smile slip. "I'm just happy," she answered honestly, laughing when he shook his head at her in bewilderment.

As they were walking out past the single register not fifteen minutes later, Beth stopped in her tracks after catching a glimpse of a familiar brown plastic wrapper peeking out underneath a rack of newspapers and magazines.

"No way," she said, bending down to pull the wrapper out from under its dusty hiding place. She lifted the unopened package of M&Ms, turning to show Daryl with a satisfied grin. "Jackpot!"

He chuckled. "Better hide those from Michonne and the kid," he said. "They'll fight you for 'em no questions asked."

Beth laughed. Truer words had never been spoken. She pocketed the candy, ready to leave, but Daryl was no longer heading out the door. He craned his neck over the register and bit the inside of his cheek, gesturing for her to look as well.

On the ground lay the decaying corpse of a long dead man, an old man judging by the puffs of white hair still attached to the sunken, grey skin of his skull. He wore a nametag on the pocket of his flannel shirt that indicated his name had been Joe, his arms crossed purposefully over his chest in a final resting pose.

"I wonder if he was the owner," Beth whispered, a tiny spark of sadness flaring up in her chest at the thought of him dying all alone behind a grocery store counter. Daryl said nothing but moved slowly towards the body, leaning over it and gently patting the pockets of the man's jacket and shirt.

Beth stood on the other side of the counter while Daryl sifted through the dead man's pockets, noting the dates printed on the fronts of the papers and magazines still in their racks. Only a month before the turn. She shook her head, still amazed at how fragile it had all been, how quickly and easily it all fell apart.

Daryl stood up with a wallet, a lighter, and an open red and white pack of cigarettes that he tucked into the front pocket of his vest. From the wallet he pulled out a small photo of the man and two small, laughing children on his knee. He looked at it for a moment before placing it underneath the bony fingers flush with the man's chest. Warmth spread through Beth's chest at the unexpected gesture and she gave Daryl a smile, feeling a surge of pride she hoped he could see. He slung the strap of his crossbow over his shoulder with a practiced gesture and headed towards the door without a word, suddenly brusque as if he were trying to brush off the deed.

 _It's too late,_ she thought. _I already know you're good._

Smiling to herself, she followed him out into the sunlight.

Sasha and Rick were already back and waiting by the building on the corner. The black duffel at their feet looked fuller than when they'd left and a dark line of liquid could be seen splashing around the bottom half of the gas can. Rick pushed off of the side of the building when they were a few steps away and took the bag Daryl was holding out. They began quietly accounting their scores and Beth walked over to stand beside Sasha, leaning her back against the building.

Sasha had always intimidated Beth with her sharp tongue and shrewd, dark eyes that seemed to miss nothing. She was a natural born leader and Beth admired her stubbornness and ferocity, but they had never had much to talk about. She hadn't exactly been the type for girl talk or baby care. It was obvious that Sasha was hurting, however, and Beth gathered that no one had been very successful in getting her to open up about it.

"I'm sorry about Bob," Beth said quietly, cutting straight to the point. She kept her face turned in the other direction but peeked at Sasha out of the corner of her eye. Sasha's mouth twitched but she said nothing, her face remaining vacant and still.

"He was a good man," Beth added a beat later, instinctively reaching out to grab the woman's arm and giving it a gentle squeeze. Sasha flinched but didn't pull away, and for a moment they simply stood there, each looking in separate directions while they waited for Maggie and Glenn. Beth thought that maybe that was it and the conversation would die before it started, but she held onto her anyway. She watched the same walker from earlier still struggling towards them. It kept falling down, it's progress seriously impeded by the broken ankle she sported.

"He deserved so much better than the ending he got," Sasha said finally, staring disinterestedly at the distant walker.

Beth opened her mouth to agree and was about to reach down for her hand when Rick spotted Glenn and Maggie walking down the middle of the street towards them. They had been the most successful and described the items they'd managed to collect, a useful mix of first aid equipment and hygiene products they'd found hidden in a storeroom, and before long they were leaving the tiny town with their finds. A quick and practically effortless run completed.

Beth matched Sasha's pace unintentionally on the way back, the two of them ending up a few paces behind everyone else as they walked down the middle of the empty road towards the warehouse. Beth didn't expect Sasha to say anything further, but she knew that sometimes it was enough to just have someone within arm's reach.

"He was a believer," Sasha said, so quietly that Beth could barely hear her over the collective sounds of their footsteps. She looked at Sasha who lifted her eyes and met Beth's gaze for the first time. "In goodness. In good _things_ … kind of like you. He wouldn't give up on me, wouldn't let me go hard and cold when I was scared that Tyreese was dead. He wouldn't let me give up on Maggie either, had us following her all over Georgia looking for Glenn even though I didn't think she had a prayer of seeing him again…"

Sasha looked down at her feet, shaking her head. For a moment Beth thought she might smile. "He was brave and foolishly optimistic," she continued, oncoming tears roughening the sound of her voice. "More kind and open than I ever knew how to be. I don't know. He just… Bob made me better. And that's gone." When she looked back up at Beth her dark eyes were shining. "My better is gone forever."

Beth wanted to tell her that it wasn't true and she opened her mouth, ready with a dozen reasons why. But as she watched Sasha's face crumple with repressed grief and tears began to fall from her eyes, she knew she couldn't. Bob was dead and nothing she said would change that or heal the open wound on her heart. Beth slipped an arm gently around the thin woman's waist instead, pulling her close and letting her cry silently on her shoulder while they walked.

She looked up ahead at Daryl leading the group beside Rick and felt the sudden urge to cry herself. Sasha's words hit close to home, and the intense feelings of surprise and anxiety that realization instilled scared her.

After a few moments Sasha sniffed and let go of Beth, angrily swatting away the tears on her cheeks. She took a deep, ragged breath, straightened her shoulders and swung her gun off her back to hold in her hands. Beth gave her a small smile, shifting her own pack higher up on her shoulder. They walked side by side, each lost in their own thoughts.

There was something about what Sasha had said, one barely mentioned detail of her story that bugged Beth. She mulled it over for a while, replaying Sasha's words, sure that she must've misunderstood. She didn't want to burden Sasha with something that would only be her problem in the long run, but she couldn't stop herself from asking.

"Sasha? Earlier… you said Maggie looked for Glenn?"

Sasha looked at her and nodded.

"They weren't on the bus together?"

"No," Sasha replied. "None of us were. Maggie, Bob, and I got out together. She'd put Glenn on the bus and ran over to us looking for you, but then Bob got shot and she got distracted trying to help me with him. The bus pulled away just as we were moving towards it."

"But then how'd Glenn get out?"

Sasha snorted, though after what she'd just said about Bob, her façade of disbelief and annoyance with lovesick men didn't fool Beth. "That fool had gotten off of the bus looking for Maggie. He says he passed out and woke up in the cell block after it was all over. The three of us found the bus not long after we left but… no one on it made it." Beth grimaced. She'd expected as much, but it was one thing to imagine the worst and an entirely different thing to have her fears confirmed. "But Glenn wasn't on it, so we spent the next week or so following Maggie's stubbornness around the woods looking for him."

Beth frowned, unable to keep the strange, sick feeling from forming in the pit of her stomach. Sasha, for her part, noticed nothing and kept talking.

"Your sister went off on her own at one point, which was my doing. But she left these signs up along the train tracks so she was easy enough to follow."

"Signs?"

Sasha smiled a bemused smile. "Yeah, in walker blood. They were messages telling Glenn to go to Terminus. And I'll be damned if they didn't work. He'd seen one with all of our names on it and we met up with him and Tara and all of the new people just a couple miles out."

Beth could feel her throat tightening with anger and tears, her stomach churning with the acidic feel of betrayal. She fixed her eyes on Sasha, waiting until she turned her head and looked her in the eyes.

"Just for Glenn?" She asked quietly.

Sasha's smile vanished at the look on Beth's face. She wanted Sasha to tell her it wasn't true, that she'd just forgotten to mention her name had been up there on those signs alongside Glenn's. That of course Maggie had looked for her too, that it went without saying she had looked for the only living family she had left as passionately and single mindedly as she had looked for her husband. But as the smile faded from Sasha's face, realizing at the same moment what Beth was, she knew it wasn't an omitted detail.

"Yes," Sasha said finally. "The messages were just for Glenn."

Beth was surprised at how strong the force of her sister's faithlessness hit her and she tore her eyes away from Sasha, staring straight ahead but not seeing anything.

"Well I guess that makes sense," she said slowly.

"It… it does?" Sasha asked tentatively.

Beth nodded. "Sure. Why look for someone you know won't last a day on their own when you could look for your husband instead?"

"Beth…" Sasha said, reaching a hand towards her. But Beth was done listening and she stepped out of Sasha's reach. Her eyes focused on Maggie up ahead walking hand in hand with Glenn, her ring glinting appropriately in the early morning sunlight. Beth felt like she'd been punched in the gut; like all the oxygen in the world had vanished and there was nothing for her to breathe.

 _Maggie hadn't looked for her._ She had immediately given up on her. It hurt to suddenly be confronted with how weak her sister viewed her, so helpless and incapable that she didn't deserve her own search party. Beth felt profoundly foolish thinking about how she'd run Daryl ragged chasing after her sister, pushing and pushing for one more day, one more mile, full of hope and faith that she'd see her again. Low in her belly the anger and embarrassment simmered as they made their way back to the camp, her heart hardening towards her oblivious sister with every step she took.

* * *

Their confrontation came almost an hour later as they were packing up the cars. Beth waited a few feet away from the open back end of the truck with Judith in her arms, trying to let entertaining the squirmy baby be enough to distract her from the unpleasant truth she'd accidentally unearthed. She was trying to get Judith more interested in walking, thinking that all the carrying around she got was inhibiting her natural desire to use her legs. She walked with her index fingers wrapped in Judith's chubby little hands, urging her to take wobbly steps from behind.

Suddenly Beth felt Maggie's hand on her shoulder and she scooped the baby back up, turning to see an unsuspecting smile on her sister's face. She fought the urge to shrug off her touch and held Judith tighter to her chest, something the baby did not particularly enjoy. She began squirming furiously and let out a cry of protest in Beth's ear.

"How's Judy doing?" Maggie asked cheerfully, running her other hand over the baby's head. "Ya'll getting reacquainted?"

Beth thought about lying. She considered blowing the whole thing off, ignoring her sister's faithlessness and abandonment and letting her anger and hurt die then and there, truly thinking it might be better for everyone if she bottled it up. After all, she didn't get to get upset.

But then she thought better of it.

"How long after the prison fell did you give me up for dead?" She asked over Judith's head, taking a small, perverse pleasure in the look of panicked surprise on her sister's face. Beth could count on one hand the number of times in her life that she'd seen Maggie speechless; her feisty sister was always ready with a comeback or an opinion. But Maggie simply opened and shut her mouth, her silence only serving to fuel Beth's anger.

"How long, Maggie?"

Maggie took her hand off Beth's shoulder and grabbed her own arm, crossing them across her chest like a shield and flinching at the cold, sharp anger in Beth's voice.

"You weren't on the bus," she said helplessly, her voice small. Her eyes pleaded with Beth to understand. "You were supposed to be on the bus."

"So were you… so was everyone! That didn't mean I stopped looking or believing you were alive."

"Beth. Listen to me…"

"No!" Beth cried. She could feel angry tears pricking at the corners of her eyes but blinked them furiously away. She would not cry. " _You_ listen! I spent days looking for you, walking around in circles holding onto nothing more than hope and a prayer that I'd find you again. Especially after Daddy…" She trailed off, unable to finish the thought out loud. "And you didn't give me a second thought."

By now their argument had attracted a small crowd. Beth could see the blur of their faces behind Maggie hesitating by the open doors of the cars, unsure of whether to step in or not. Glenn stood next to Carol looking conflicted although he wisely stayed away.

Beth had a flash of a woman's voice, weeping and apologizing in the darkness she couldn't escape from, knowing now that it had been her sister. "That's why you've been so overprotective," she snapped. "Isn't it? You feel guilty."

"That's not true!" Maggie protested, her cheeks flushing with guilt and a fresh wave of indignant anger. "Please, Bethy…"

" _Don't call me that,_ " Beth said through gritted teeth. Her hands began to shake and she balled them into fists under Judith's legs. "I know about the signs Maggie, about you and Sasha and Bob. Don't stand there and tell me lies about how you looked for me when there's proof printed all over Georgia that you only thought about Glenn!"

"It was wrong of me to assume the worst, to give up on you so quickly. I _know_ that. But why wouldn't I look for him Beth?" Maggie asked, throwing up her arms in frustration, her voice taking on a defensive edge. "He's my husband!"

The world around them seemed to still, the quiet almost deafening as Beth took a step forward, her jaw set and her eyes ablaze as she looked straight into Maggie's eyes.

"And I'm your sister," she said. She was so close she could see herself reflecting in Maggie's bright green eyes, small and shaking. Her hair was wild, her chin held high, and there was fury in her features. Fury and more hurt than she knew what to do with. She saw something in Maggie's eyes darken with her own hurt and guilt as she stared back, but Beth wasn't happy about it. Feeling that there was nothing more to say, she turned and walked towards the truck, leaving her sister speechless behind her.


	10. Fist Not the Bruise

Daryl was glad when the van signaled and they pulled off onto the side of the road when the sun began to set. He and Rick parked the cars nose to nose and angled the back ends towards the woods to give some semblance of privacy and protection from the road. They set up camp quickly, digging a pit for the fire and dragging over a couple thick fallen branches to serve as chairs around it before passing around provisions.

It had been a long day. A turned over semi thirty miles into South Carolina had forced them to re-route, the back tracking adding more than an hour to their drive and sending them through a town where walkers dotted the streets like macabre lawn ornaments. Not to mention the silence in the cab of the truck had been stifling, exhausting with how alive and present it felt. Maggie and Glenn had switched places with Tara and Noah in the truck, but it was clear they were all thinking about the scene they had just witnessed. Daryl continually shot glances over at Beth in the passenger seat. She was all elbows and sharp angles, the anger rolling off of her in palpable waves as she glared out the window, and he knew better than to try talk to her about it. Still he felt helpless, like he should say something or do something to distract her from how upset she was.

He'd watched their fight from the fire escape and only caught snippets of the words they shot back and forth at one another. But it was enough to understand that somehow Beth knew about Maggie's focused and stubborn search to find Glenn when they had been scattered throughout the Georgia woods like dandelion seeds. Even he could feel the sting of that betrayal, and he expected Beth to be upset. However, the force of her anger surprised him.

It wasn't something that had been discussed, but Daryl had seen one of Maggie's bloody signs as they fled from Terminus, the gruesome red letters visible through the trees as they ran parallel to the tracks in the opposite direction. At the time it had barely registered, the pressing need to escape the fire and giant herd close by obliterating everything else. It was only later when they were safe inside the church and his belly was full of food that he had a moment to think about the sign and what it meant.

His initial confusion was quickly followed by disbelief. How could she have just _not_ looked for her? The only blood kin she had left in the entire world? Had her grief been so compartmentalized that she simply forgot about Beth? He had felt a profound sense of disappointment in Maggie and was sobered by the realization that he was currently the only one who cared if Beth was ever found or not.

Now he turned his head to look past the truck's bumper into the darkness, as he had been doing every two minutes since dinner had ended and Beth quietly announced she'd take the first watch, walking off without waiting for acknowledgment from anyone. She stood a few yards away from the forest's edge, leaning against a solitary tree to the left of the camp with her arms crossed tightly against her chest. She'd been standing that way for more than an hour, staring off into the dark woods, and he couldn't help but feel worried.

The atmosphere around the fire was notably different from the previous night's, and Daryl wasn't sure if it was exhaustion from the travel or Beth and Maggie's fight that made the entire group feel off-kilter. For the most part everyone was quiet and staring into the fire; the few conversations that occurred were little more than whispers from neighbor to neighbor. Maggie's face was tight and her brow furrowed, but Daryl saw the surreptitious glances she shot at the space where her sister had disappeared. Glenn had his arm wrapped protectively around her, looking just as bothered by the situation as his wife.

Daryl looked over at Beth again. He didn't like that she was over there all by herself when she was upset and not necessarily thinking clearly. He started to stand, catching Rick's attention and he jerked his head off into the distance. "'m gonna take a piss," he explained. He ran his palm over the knife at his belt and left his crossbow leaning against the log in his place.

The pretense felt stupid and childish, but he didn't want the entire group's eyes to be on him when he tried to talk to her. He walked quietly in the opposite direction, pausing for a moment at the tree line before circling back, keeping out of sight. He approached her on her left and stood a couple of feet away to give her space, shoving his hands in his pockets. He said nothing, knowing he didn't have to announce himself. She'd know it was him even if she refused to look his way.

While he waited he looked up at the sky, taking in the sliver of moon nestled in its sea of stars and the few wispy clouds that trailed across it. The night was still, the air cool and crisp with the scent of the dying summer. He inhaled deeply, the chirping crickets and clicking katydids a nice static to the thoughts running through his head, thoughts like what the hell he thought he was doing there trying to comfort someone like Beth.

A few minutes passed before she turned her head, fixing her eyes on him with the same wild intensity she'd shown when they were screaming at each other outside the moonshine shack.

"Did you know?"

Daryl nodded.

"How could you keep something like that from me?" Beth asked, her brows knitting together in disbelief.

"Why would I tell you somethin' that was just gonna hurt you?" He replied calmly. "We were all together again just like you wanted. Like we _all_ wanted. It didn't seem important."

"Of course it's important."

"Why?"

"Because I have a right to know that my own sister gave me up for dead the second she realized I wasn't on that bus!" She shot back, her voice a furious whisper. "I have a right to know what she really thinks about me. That it was a waste of time to look for me because I'm weak and helpless… just like everyone else thinks."

Daryl shifted his gaze to the toes of his boots in the dewy, scrubby grass, unsure of what to say. He knew she wasn't mad at him, that the anger was just a way to mask the hurt and disloyalty she was struggling to cope with. He also had a sneaking suspicion that the continued anger had less to do with her sister than she let on and more to do with the secrets she kept about the hospital. But he heard the hint of an accusation and he was forced to remember that there was a time when he _had_ thought similar things about her.

"I don't think that Beth." He watched her press her lips together, his words and the sound of her name clearly affecting her. "You know that I don't."

She remained quiet but he saw her eyes soften slightly. "I pushed and pushed you to go after them," she said after a moment, shaking her head. He could hear the anger fading from her voice, but when she turned her head he felt his chest tighten at the look of utter defeat and sadness in her eyes. "I made you walk in circles trying to find some kind of trail so that I could find her and… and she didn't do the same for me. All she thought about was finding Glenn."

Daryl shifted uncomfortably. In the absence of anger her pain was obvious and raw, but he still wasn't sure what to do about it. He agreed it was shitty of Maggie to just give up on Beth in favor of finding her husband. Not only because she'd wanted to find him but because she assumed that Beth wouldn't make it outside the prison walls. That knowledge was something he couldn't erase. She had to live with it.

He still remembered the desperate hug she'd given him when he'd fallen apart after the prison fell, his touchy pride and suppressed grief flaring up in an inferno of anger that he'd directed at her. But instead of shrinking away like he'd expected she'd fought back, matching his anger with her own until all that was left was his own raw and exposed sadness. And then she'd done what no one else ever had: she'd held him. The feel of her thin arms throwing themselves around his waist from behind and holding on with strength that surprised him, propping him up and refusing to let go until he was ready was something he would never forget.

Slowly Daryl closed the distance between them and slipped his arm around her shoulders, hesitantly at first, afraid that she'd shrug him off or flinch away from his touch. But she instantly leaned into the curve of him, resting her head gratefully on his shoulder and he tightened his hold in a sideways embrace. He tried hard not to think about the warmth of her or how good it felt to hold her, hurriedly blocking out the tactless taunts Merle's voice began to shout in his head.

"It hurts," she said. "And I hate that it hurts because I just want to be angry with her."

"Fist not the bruise," he muttered, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them. She lifted her head off his shoulder and looked up at him with confusion. "Its somethin' my brother used to say… his life's motto. Basically he meant that it was always better to be the one throwin' the punches than the one who woke up with the black eye the next day."

Beth shifted and he felt her arm slide across his back. Her eyes were watching him carefully at the mention of his brother and their pull was powerful, but he stared straight ahead at the trees. "That explains a lot," she said finally.

He smirked and nodded. "Yeah… Merle was…" He trailed off. His brother was a lot of things, a whole book's worth of nouns and adjectives he didn't have the energy to go through.

"Merle," she finished simply, once again saying exactly the right thing. How she always did that he'd never know. "I kind of get it though. It sucks being the bruise. It felt a lot better this morning when I was the fist, so to speak."

"The way I see it," Daryl said quietly, "if my brother had ever let himself be the bruise his entire life could've turned out different. Not a bad thing to hurt sometimes… it makes you reevaluate things. What's important and what isn't."

He swallowed, instantly self-conscious, and began chewing on his lip. He was starting to realize it was dangerous being alone with Beth Greene because he said things that he shouldn't, let secrets disguised as nonsense and feelings slip out of his mouth with very little guidance from his brain.

There was no way for her to know that when he said those things he was talking about himself. About the hurt he felt watching her disappear in the back of that car, seeing her head snap back as the gun went off, watching her lie there in that hospital bed with the possibility that she might never wake up looming over his head. How all of those things, especially in light of the prison's demise, had made him seriously consider just what it was that was important to him now. And how surprised he'd been to find her name at the top of that list.

Beth leaned her head back on his shoulder and pondered that for a moment, every second she stayed quiet fueling his embarrassment. Finally, she said: "You're pretty smart, Mr. Dixon."

He couldn't help but smile hearing that name again. "Told you... man of many talents."

A long, comfortable silence fell between them, and if Daryl had believed in prayer or thought there was anyone up in the starry sky above them listening he would have sent up a thank you. For the quiet, for her life and his, for being allowed to hold her like this. His future had become a mystery again, and he had no idea what the next few days would bring. If they would find refuge in Virginia or reunite Noah with his family, if the world would provide or conspire against them as it had a nasty habit of doing. For now, he was just grateful. And he was happy to be that way.

* * *

A day and a half later found the group twenty miles outside of Noah's hometown. They had been delayed by a bout of bad weather the day before, but it had passed by and left behind warm yellow sunshine and brilliant blue skies Daryl wanted to take as a good sign. Rick wanted a small group to go ahead and check the place out first and had asked Michonne and Glenn to accompany him and Noah. Beth had asked to go as well, something that Rick hesitated to agree to at first.

"I don't know Beth," he answered. "We don't know what we're walkin' into up there. And I know you don't like being reminded of this, but you did get shot less than two weeks ago. Plus, I don't want you using this as a way to get back at your sister."

Beth shook her head firmly. "This has nothing to do with my sister. You're right that we don't know how this is all going to turn out, but I helped Noah get this far and I should be there with him at the end regardless."

"She's good out there Rick," Daryl endorsed, stepping beside her as Rick's gaze shifted to him. He reasoned that Rick's hesitation stemmed more from the fact that he had never seen Beth in action than the possibility it might piss Maggie off. He knew firsthand how tough she was. "She can handle it."

Rick thought it over for a moment, eventually nodding his head in agreement. He smiled slightly down at Beth, leaning closer to her as he said, "But I ain't telling your sister." Beth had nodded once, the corner of her mouth twitching with the hint of a smile before shooting Daryl a grateful look and turning to collect her things. He watched her go and Rick cleared his throat loudly.

"What?" Daryl said, but Rick only raised his eyebrows and shook his head. He looked entirely too amused for Daryl's liking, so he punched him on the shoulder and walked away, ignoring Rick's chuckles.

He was loading up the van with the supplies a while later when he saw Maggie and Glenn approach Beth through the back window of the open door. He sighed, already knowing what Maggie had to say, and judging by the deepening frown on Beth's face, so did she.

"I'm not arguing with you about this Maggie," Beth said flatly, barely glancing up at them as she continued to sharpen her knife the way that Abraham had shown her the day before. "It's done."

"Dammit Beth, will you just listen to me!" Maggie started, her voice instantly rising. Glenn grabbed her arm and they exchanged a look. Daryl had no doubt they'd talked about how to approach the conversation and Maggie's passionate nature was already blowing it. She closed her eyes and took a breath. "Beth," she said again with a strained calm. "I'm asking you to please reconsider going on this run. This is different than the run into town the other day… it's more dangerous, more unpredictable. I don't feel comfortable letting you go out there when…"

"You have no say in what I do or don't do, Maggie," Beth interrupted calmly. Her eyes shifted to Glenn. "And neither do you."

Maggie let out an exhale of frustration and Glenn leaned closer to Beth. "I know you're angry, Beth. Ok? No one is asking you to stop, but this isn't smart. You don't have experience going on runs, you're still having headaches and dizzy spells. I know you just want to help Noah but you can help him better if you stay behind."

"Thank you for your concern," she said stiffly, rising to her feet and sheathing her knife. "But I feel fine. And Noah's my friend. I was trying to help him get home before you came to the hospital, and I intend to see that through." She leaned down to pick up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder before heading towards the backseat of the van where Michonne was already waiting.

Maggie's face crumpled and Glenn's arms slid around her. Daryl shut the back doors with a loud _thunk_ that attracted Maggie and Glenn's attention, and immediately Maggie broke free from her husband's embrace and hurried towards him.

"Why did you tell Rick she could go out there?" She snapped, glaring at him over the index finger she pointed at his chest.

"You make it sound like I gave her permission."

"Well didn't you?"

He gestured at the closed door of the van that Beth sat behind. "She's a helluva lot tougher than you give her credit for Maggie. She can hold her own out there, I've seen it. How d'you think we made it out there before? It wasn't all 'cause of me I can promise you that." Maggie bit her lip and let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping forward with defeat. Daryl softened his tone. "She was gonna go no matter what."

Daryl saw the conflicting emotions flicker across her face. She looked over at the tinted back windows of the van and he knew she wanted to fling the door open and drag her sister out by the collar. For all of his disappointment in her and all of her failings of faith in the past few weeks, it couldn't be said that Maggie didn't love Beth. Accepting defeat she shook her head and slowly turned away from the van without another word.

"I can't leave her like this," Glenn said quietly as he watched his wife go, moving sadly through the dry, brown grass with her head down. He looked at Daryl expectantly.

"I'll go," he agreed. Glenn nodded gratefully at the ground, a heavy sigh escaping from his nostrils and Daryl gave him an encouraging pat on the back.

Rick shot him a curious glance as he slid into the passenger seat, stashing his bow at his feet. "Glenn's not coming," he said simply in response, throwing a glance behind him at the backseat. Noah, preoccupied with nerves and worry, barely acknowledged the change in plans but Michonne shot him one of her annoying, all-knowing smiles, her teeth bright against her dark skin.

He often thought that if Carol was the big sister that he never had than Michonne was the little one, her teasing and constant amusement with his lighter misfortunes proving over and over to be a gigantic pain in his ass. Like Carol and Rick she too seemed to be able to see through him, and she took great pleasure in making him uncomfortable.

Beth did not smile at him but her eyes widened slightly and he could see gratitude in her expression, reserved just for him.

It was a quick, painless drive that took them along the outskirts of town. The route Noah sent them on took them past very few buildings, the slightly hilly road cutting through the woods like a rolling black tongue and dotted only occasionally with fancy signs for empty housing developments. Rick pulled over, driving a ways into the woods and parking beside two abandoned vehicles when Noah announced they were only a mile away from his neighborhood.

They decided to stay off of the main road and walk through the trees, previous experience with settlements all running through their minds and kick-starting the learned need for vigilant caution. Noah led the way, setting a hurried pace that made more noise through the brush and fallen brown leaves than Daryl preferred. But it was hard to fault the kid, what with the possibility that his family would be waiting up ahead. They walked the mile without speaking a word before Noah announced it was less than fifty feet away and they veered back onto the main road.

The wall was still intact, tall trees growing up and around it and leaving dappled sunlight on the road. But it didn't look promising, an air of abandonment hanging over the gate and the air behind it like a veil. That bad feeling only intensified in Daryl's gut as they stepped into the cool shadow of the gate and were greeted with the sound of silence.

They spread out in front of the wall, scanning the sides for an entrance they could use. And, Daryl thought, for some sign of what was on the other side. Noah walked up to the middle of the wall, pulling on the locked gate in desperation, and suddenly Daryl heard it: the hiss of a distant walker from behind the gates. He turned his head to his right and looked at Beth. She'd heard it too, and her blue eyes darkened with what they both knew to be true.

Noah's neighborhood was gone.

* * *

A/N: Comment, review, discuss how much we all adore Bethyl... Seriously sometimes I forget that Beth died on the show because I spend so much time daydreaming and writing new scenes and stories for her and Daryl. But I'm also obsessed and kind of a loser so that could just be me (:

Thanks for reading! xo, kaitiebee89


	11. Hey Ya

Beth felt her stomach sink as the sound of the walker's groans hit her ears. It was all she could do not to reach for Noah right then and drag him away, understanding straightaway that nothing they found behind those gates would be good and wanting desperately to protect him from the pain.

On the other end of the wall Michonne was climbing swiftly up the brick post, unhindered by the katana on her back. Beth watched as she scanned the area behind the wall, illogically hoping that there was a reasonable explanation for a walker being present in the middle of a gated settlement. But Michonne looked down from her perch on the wall and simply shook her head and that hope fizzled out.

She turned to Noah, whose eyes were wide with panic, following him to the base of the wall as he began a frantic climb up and over it. Everyone reluctantly followed suit, scampering over the walls and making the short jump to the ground on the other side. Beth tried to climb quickly, her hands scraping against the rough, red brick, but her head slowed her down. She could feel Daryl's presence behind her as she climbed, not touching her but ready to catch her if she fell. And when her vision started to swim and she was forced to pause at the top of the wall, she was grateful he was there.

With her heart in her throat she joined the others on the ground in a graceless landing that made her palms scrape against the asphalt and her head throb with exertion. Impatiently she wiped the blood away on the sides of her jeans and pushed onto her feet before looking with wary eyes at the place Noah had once called home.

In another life, the neighborhood was a small and pretty place to live with large front lawns, ornate black lanterns sitting atop red brick fences, and old, tall trees that blocked out the relentless heat of the Virginia summer sun. Now it was just another ghost town. Many of the houses were little more than blackened, burnt shells, the streets littered with abandoned cars and rotting bodies that lay amongst piles of undisturbed brown leaves while birds chirped in the trees, oblivious to the shared heartbreak below.

Beth glanced over her shoulder at Daryl who was scanning the street ahead of them, his bow lowered and his face expressionless. But when his eyes flicked to hers she saw the same disappointed sadness in them that she felt inside.

Suddenly Noah, who up until that moment had been walking forcefully down the middle of the paved road and breathing hard, burst into a run. He ignored Rick's voice yelling for him to come back, and Beth briefly wondered what exactly he was running towards. They all sprinted after him and for a moment Beth was afraid Rick was going to tackle him to the ground. But Noah stopped short as they came to an intersection, pacing over a bright, smiling sun that someone had painted on the ground with his hands behind his head. She wasn't surprised when he fell to the ground with grief, but the sound of the strangled cry that left his lips made her insides go cold and she threw a hand over her mouth to keep in her own cries.

Michonne, Rick, and Daryl fanned out on either side of him as he sobbed, looking down the empty streets with their hands poised over their weapons. There were two walkers that she could see, ambling slowly toward them with their typical jerky, uneven steps and gurgling growls. Nothing that required her immediate attention. Taking a deep breath Beth closed the gap between her and Noah, squatting down beside him.

"It's okay," she said, gathering him up in her arms and pulling him to her. "You'll be with us now." She knew as she said it that it wasn't enough, that what he wanted was to be with his mom and little brothers and to find them alive and safe in the place he'd left them. But it was all she had to give him.

Behind her she heard Rick radio Carol and tell her the place was gone, sounding both resigned and unsurprised, while Michonne walked with heavy steps towards the approaching walkers. She decapitated them with angry, efficient swings, the sound of her sword a sharp, metallic whistle as it sliced through the air. With nothing left to do Rick jumped into a plan of action, talking reluctantly about doing a quick sweep and seeing what was worth grabbing before heading back to the rest of the group.

"I'll stay with him," Daryl said, nodding his head toward Noah and Beth.

Beth said nothing about what she would be doing. She assumed it was obvious.

Rick nodded and jerked his head to the street on the left to indicate where they'd be and followed after Michonne, stepping briskly over the silent, gaping heads she left behind in her wake.

It grew quiet again as their footsteps faded away, the rustle of leaves, birdsong, and chirping bug life the only sounds that accompanied Noah's cries. Daryl walked closer to them, stepping into her line of sight. His presence was like an anchor, solid and supportive, and she was struck again with gratitude as she held her sobbing, shattered friend that he was there to keep her steady.

"I'm sorry Noah," Beth said quietly as his sobs began to lose some of their ferocity, her mouth at his temple. "I'm so sorry that this happened to you. But you're not alone. You've got me and my family, and they can't replace what you lost here… but we'll try to fill some of that hole. We'll try and make it okay."

Noah said nothing and he wouldn't look at her, even when he stood on shaky legs a few minutes later. Beth watched him warily, trying to see his move from the ground as a sign that grief hadn't swallowed him whole. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders… and suddenly he was running off down the street again and ignoring Beth and Daryl's calls. They exchanged a look before running after him, following the curve of the road out of sight from the neighborhood's entrance.

It felt strange to run, and her limbs seemed to have trouble remembering how. She could feel the weakness of her muscles as she pushed to keep up with Daryl, their tremulousness leading her to envision a series of limp, stretched out rubber bands hanging loosely off of her bones. Her lungs screamed at her for more air, her muscles burned furiously, and as the sledgehammer in her head began to pound away again it occurred to her that maybe Glenn had been right about her not being fit for this.

Up ahead Noah stopped in front of a dark blue house towards the end of the street, panting in the untamed grass of the front yard with his hands on his skinny hips.

"This is my house," he said when they'd caught up to him.

The pounding in her head threatened to send her to her knees, and it was all she could do to keep her eyes open and focused on Noah. Beth slipped in front of him and held out her palms to his chest, pushing aside her desire to lay in the yard and gulp down lungfuls of air.

"Noah, you don't want to go in there," she gasped.

Noah's nostrils flared and he fixed wide, clear eyes on her and she knew it didn't matter what she said. He was determined to see what was inside, needed whatever microscopic sense of closure it would bring. Without another word she sighed and stepped to the side to let him pass, following him and Daryl up the slightly sloping yard to the front door. Daryl banged on it with his open palm before bringing his fingers to his mouth and whistling through them.

"Give it a minute," he said in a low, gravelly whisper. He glanced over at her, and in the split second their eyes met she knew he too was thinking about the last home they had entered together and the events that had transpired after he'd said those exact same words.

… _His eyes, usually so unreadable and far away now looking at her over bodies someone had prepared for burial, over a table of food and candlelight with respect and surprising warmth. And something else. Something that frightens and exhilarates her and makes her want this moment, where his eyes are on hers and she can hear her heart pounding in her ears, to stretch into forever..._

She blinked and the memories were gone, depositing her roughly back on Noah's front steps. She tried to discreetly shake her head and clear her mind, refocusing her gaze on the dark depths of the house and sliding her knife quietly out of the leather sheath at her belt.

When no one and nothing but silence came barreling out of the quiet house Daryl stepped over the threshold with squared shoulders, raising his crossbow as he led Noah inside with Beth taking up the rear.

The house looked ransacked. The floor was covered in random debris, blankets and items of clothing layered with knocked over lamps, broken picture frames, and books. Straight ahead was a couch which sat crookedly in front of the dusty fireplace, but the matching recliner next to it had been flipped over onto its side, padding bleeding out of a large rip in the back cushion. Daryl scanned down both hallways as they entered the living room before dropping the bow to his side, satisfied with the quiet.

Noah paused for a moment as he came upon the couch, and when he moved to the side Beth could see why. The body of a woman laid face first on the floor in front of the couch, a chunk of the back of her head missing. It was obviously his mother. Beth watched Noah carefully for signs of another breakdown, but he walked calmly to her side and sank to his knees with a despairing acceptance written on his features. He eyed his mother for a moment, his hands hovering over her before slowly sliding a nearby blanket over her corpse.

"I tried to get back sooner," he whispered. Beth winced at the pain in his voice. There was so much regret, so much sorrow she could do nothing to ease. "I tried."

Beth turned away from Noah and his mother, trying to give him some privacy while he said goodbye. The sadness and unfairness of the entire situation threatened to overwhelm her, but she knew this wasn't a place for her tears. She could hear Daryl moving around in the kitchen and a moment later he appeared in the doorway.

"I'm gonna go check out the basement," he said softly and Beth nodded.

"I'll stay with him," she replied, echoing his earlier statement.

"He'll be okay," Daryl said after a long pause, and even though his voice sounded sure there was sadness in his eyes, tenderness for the boy that Beth wasn't sure she was supposed to see.

"He has brothers," Beth told him as he turned back toward the kitchen. Daryl glanced behind her into the living room and sighed heavily. Somewhere in the quiet, dusty house they would find the dead bodies of his younger brothers. Behind them Noah was still talking to his mother, his voice rising and falling in wordless waves.

"I'll go look for 'em."

Beth shook her head. "No, go look for supplies. We'll be okay. He already knows what we're going to find."

Lifting his crossbow Daryl nodded. "You need anythin' just holler."

Beth nodded again in agreement. "You too." She watched him turn and disappear around the corner before turning her attention back to Noah, still kneeling beside his mother.

After a moment Noah stood up with his back to her, wiping tears off of his face before turning to locate her in the room. His eyes were red and watery, and the look of utter defeat on his face was enough to break her heart. As he moved slowly away from his mother, Beth pushed off of the doorframe and met him halfway with open arms. He slid into her embrace again, bending his tall, thin frame down and sinking into her.

"I'm sorry," she said again after he'd pulled away. She hated how inadequate the words sounded and felt bad that she couldn't come up with anything more helpful to say. Noah nodded and rubbed the sleeve of his sweatshirt quickly under his nose.

"My brothers," he said quietly and Beth nodded immediately in understanding.

"I'll be with you the entire time," she replied, giving his arm a squeeze.

Taking a deep breath he squared his shoulders and headed down the hallway toward a series of half open, white doors. Beth felt nervous, although she knew what they were going to find. Noah led them slowly down the hallway, his spine straight and taking slightly reluctant steps as they approached the last door on the right. From the hallway she could see a pair of legs lying flat on the bed, the full body coming into view once Noah pushed the door open with one hand.

The body was long and skinny, just like Noah. Beth opened her mouth to ask him which brother this was, but one look at Noah's face and she realized that not only was he not sure, but he was barely standing under a fresh wave of grief and in no position to answer any of her questions. He took a step into the room, pausing at the foot of the bed before bowing his head with a heavy sigh.

"Can I have a minute?" He asked Beth.

"Of course," she answered, taking a step back into the hallway. "I'll just be out here." She closed the door halfway and leaned against the wall, looking up at the framed photographs on the opposite wall.

There were a mix of professional photographs and snapshots that lined the hallway in matching black frames, and Beth felt a lump of sadness grow in her chest as she examined them. That such a normal, happy family had met such a violent end was heartbreaking. It didn't matter that this was the story of most people nowadays; her connection to this family made it impossible to accept and move blithely on from.

One photo hanging crookedly in the middle of the wall caught her eye and she stepped closer to see it better. It was a family portrait, taken outside and professionally done in black and white. Noah's mother sat in the middle frozen in mid-laugh, her husband and sons posed around her in a series of draped arms and softly placed hands. His parents looked incredibly proud and happy and Beth smiled at the way their features repeated themselves on the faces of their children, seeing a lot of Noah in his father's eyes and his mother's smile. She reached out to straighten it, her fingers leaving trails in the oily coat of dust.

From the corner of her eye Beth saw a dark flurry of movement from inside the bedroom, assuming it was Noah until a blood curdling scream ripped through the quiet, stopping her heart and making the breath lodge painfully in her throat.

 _No. Oh please God, no._

Beth knew what she would see before she entered the room despite the part of her that screamed that it was just a mistake, a cruel joke, a terrible misunderstanding. She flung herself off of the wall and burst through the door to see a walker, a mirror image of the boy lying on the bed, with his teeth sunk into the skin of Noah's arm, hissing and growling as it ripped flesh from bone.

"Noah!" She screamed over his anguished cry, unsheathing her knife and bounding across the room in two strides before sinking the sharp blade into the back of the walker's skull. It fell to the floor with a heavy thud at Noah's feet. Noah, looking dazed, staggered backwards until he ran into the wall, sliding down it and holding the wound on his arm. Dropping her knife on the floor Beth ran towards him, knocking a chair out of the way as she sank to her knees beside him and began to assess his wounds.

His brother had gotten him on the neck first in the gentle curve where his neck met his shoulder. Noah must have turned around, raising his arm in an instinctive gesture to protect himself from the teeth that were already bearing down on him. He never saw it coming.

A wave of nausea rose in her stomach. She should have been there to stop it.

Her thoughts were frayed and incoherent as she frantically grabbed a crumpled t-shirt off the floor and pressed it hard to the wound on his neck, looking up at Daryl as he came running into the room with his bow raised and a wild look on his face.

"Beth! Are you alright?" He yelled, his eyes looking her up and down before quickly taking in the corpse on the bed, her knife black with walker blood, and Noah, gasping and bleeding on the floor.

"Michonne…" she managed to gasp. Her voice sounded small and far away. "We… we need her sword."

Daryl lurched forward without another glance at Noah and slid a hand around her neck, his fingers curling in the loose hair at the base of her ponytail. "Beth, answer me! Are you bit? Did it bite you?"

She shook her head, raising her voice. "We have to cut it off! Go get Michonne!"

But Daryl didn't move. He swallowed once, staring down at Noah and taking a closer look at his injuries, but the immediate defeat in his face said it all. They could cut off his arm, but they couldn't cut off the wound on his neck. She knew that. Her stomach dropped as reality sank in and she felt her hands begin to shake violently.

"Daryl," she whimpered anyway. "Daryl, please. We need Michonne." Beside her Noah choked in pain, and Daryl looked back at her with sad eyes.

 _But he can't die,_ Beth thought. _Not this way._ But it didn't matter what she thought or how adamantly she denied it. He was going to die—was _dying—_ right there on his little brother's bedroom floor. There was nothing she could do to stop it.

With tears in her eyes she looked away from Daryl and gathered Noah up in her arms, resting his neck and head on the tops of her thighs. Both bite wounds were bleeding profusely, the thick, dark crimson soaking through his plaid shirt and the grimy carpet. She supposed they should be grateful; he would bleed out before the fever and hallucinations set in. She heard a sob rip from her throat and she grasped his hand tightly, feeling the wetness of the blood slide between their palms. His breathing was already labored, his eyes screwed shut with pain and fear.

"Noah," she whispered desperately, her voice cracking.

He looked back at her with wet, wild eyes, breathing hard. He glanced down at the bite on his arm and bit back a cry. For a moment Beth was grateful he couldn't see the much grizzlier one on his neck.

"It hurts," he whimpered.

Beth looked around frantically, trying to find something useful she could use to stop the bleeding, to make the pain stop, to keep him holding on until…

 _Until what? Until he turned?_

"Shhh," she tried to sooth instead, barely registering the pain she felt from Noah squeezing her hand too tightly and ignoring how weak and frightened her voice sounded. "It's gonna be alright, everything's okay. You'll be fine."

"I don't know… which one bit me," he said, trying to see the face of the brother that moments ago had been feasting on his skin. "…which one… bit me?"

Beth shook her head and glanced over at the dead walker that used to be Noah's little brother, feeling guilty that she couldn't give him the answer. He had never told her their names.

She could feel herself slipping, the panic and grief gripping at her heart with icy fingers that wouldn't let go, wouldn't relent. She continued babbling false, reassuring words that fell flat and sounded ridiculous, trying to control the pitch of her voice and the rhythm of her breathing, thinking that if she could fake calm eventually she would feel it. She was distantly aware of Daryl setting down his crossbow and moving to kneel down at Noah's feet, but he said nothing.

Suddenly Noah coughed, the action sending a gush of blood from the bite wound at his neck. Instinctively she pressed her free hand to it, watching helplessly as the warm liquid trickled through her fingers.

"Oh God," she said. "No, no, no."

Noah's face was pale, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He looked away from the bite on his arm and tried to take a deep breath to calm himself.

"It's… its ok… Beth," he said. "It's just… time."

Beth felt a hot tear escaped the confines of her lashes and run down her cheek, but she refused to let go of Noah to wipe it away. "No it's not," she cried, shaking her head adamantly. "It's not your time! You… you're supposed to be with us now. Remember?"

She felt him give her hand a weak squeeze, his grip rapidly fading from bone crushing to barely noticeable. She squeezed his back harder to compensate, unwilling to let go. "I'm with… family… home, Beth," he said. "You helped me… home. It's okay. It's enough."

Beth wanted to shake him. How could he say that the small, extremely hollow victory of getting him back to his dead family was enough? She couldn't help but feel insulted. He was 18 years old, a good, selfless person. Just barely a man. A death like this one wasn't supposed to happen to him.

Nothing about his life was supposed to _be_ just enough.

"This isn't fair," she choked out eventually, her voice thick with tears she was trying in vain to hold back. Neither Noah nor Daryl disagreed with her. They were quiet for a moment before Daryl finally spoke, his voice a low rumble breaking through the haze Beth suddenly found herself in.

"Noah," he said, wrapping his hand around the top of Noah's boot. "We… _I_ can end it. If you want."

Beth's eyes flew from Noah's face to Daryl's. He may have been talking to Noah but he was looking straight at her. Noah tried to shake his head but grimaced in pain as more blood gushed from his neck.

"No," he croaked. "No. It… it'll be… over soon."

Daryl nodded and Beth bit back another sob. Noah tilted his head slightly back, locking his eyes on Beth.

"Can… can you sing?"

Beth squeezed her eyes shut. She didn't know what she'd been expecting but it certainly wasn't that. She took a shuddering breath, running a hand over his clammy forehead and across the top of his head, smoothing out the furrows and wrinkles of pain.

She thought back to a conversation they'd had folding scrubs one night, hiding from Dawn in the linen closet at Grady. It had been effortless and familiar, as if they'd been friends their entire lives rather than just a smattering of bizarre and stressful days. Beth had also been surprised how normal the conversation was. They didn't talk about food or thirst or weapons or walkers, keeping an obvious if unspoken distance between them and anything having to do with Dawn or the hospital. Instead they discussed their families and hometowns, sharing favorite books and movies and music.

She'd laughed at him when he told her his favorite song, grinning at her widely and singing parts of it in a ridiculous falsetto, feigning offense at her laughter. He'd pushed her to sing instead, but she'd begged off so he'd continued, adding hip shakes, shoulder shimmies, and a broom handle microphone to his performance and making her laugh so hard that her stomach ached.

Thinking of that moment made her want to laugh and scream and beat her fists against the floor. She'd seen a glimpse of the person he had been before, and because of that she knew who he could have been if the world were different. Now as he lay there, bleeding and frightened and dying, she felt cheated for him.

She didn't think she had it in her to sing him out, and it was hardly an appropriate song for the moment. She started to shake her head to tell him no, she wouldn't, she _couldn't_. But she could already feel him slipping away and he'd done so much for her. She could do this one last thing for him.

" _My baby don't mess around, because she loves me so and this I know for sure…"_

Beth sang it sweet and slow, pushing through the parts where her voice wavered and her throat threatened to close up with tears that burned like fire. It was a markedly different performance than the one he'd given her, all silliness and humor absent. But she saw him smile slightly anyway, closing his eyes to listen.

" _If what they say that 'nothing is forever', then what makes, then what makes, then what makes love the exception, so why oh why oh why oh why oh why, are we so in denial when we know we're not happy here? Hey ya…"_

She felt him leave before the song was over, his body shuddering with a final breath that left his arms limp and his body still, but she held on tightly and sang it to the end. When she was done, the final note hanging in the empty air surrounding them, she knelt forward and rested her forehead on his, pain and grief welling up inside of her as she closed her eyes and wept.

* * *

Noah's funeral was short and quiet. Some would say, based on the circumstances, that it was beautiful. They buried him at the edge of a field beneath a willow tree whose dangling boughs cloaked the grave like a curtain and whispered in the wind, providing background music for the simple service. Carl fashioned together a cross made from two sticks, tying a small bunch of wildflowers at the cross's intersection with a piece of red yarn found at the bottom of a backpack. Father Gabriel read a passage from 1 Thessalonians, Rick said something generic and kind. Maggie cried. People were sad and respectful, grieving for a boy they'd only known for a couple of weeks but who had become one of their own.

Beth felt none of it.

She didn't think the spot was beautiful or idyllic. It was just a tree, just twigs and weeds tied together below it. She couldn't feel the gentle breeze on her face or the weight of Maggie's arm wrapped around her waist. She didn't see the sadness in anyone else's eyes. She stood dry eyed in a numbing fog, unable to tear her gaze away from the shrouded figure at the bottom of the freshly dug hole. The sight of it was surreal and so incredibly wrong that she was sure it was all a mistake. She'd held him as he died, but he couldn't be dead. Her mind refused to believe it.

"…Beth?"

She blinked slowly and lifted a heavy head to the voice, feeling as if she'd been underwater. Rick was standing in front of her, his brow furrowed. Everyone was looking at her and she half wondered how many times Rick had said her name before she'd heard him.

"Would you like to say something? You knew him best," Rick continued.

Distantly she felt Maggie squeeze her in a sideways hug that was meant to be comforting and Carol raise a hand to her shoulder. She had nothing to say, nothing that could possibly sum up the wonderful person and friend he had been to her. But the touches of her family and friends were oppressive and after a moment she staggered forward simply to get out of their reach, moving to the foot of the open grave. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, burning holes into her back and waiting for her to speak. But no words came. Not the ones they wanted to hear, anyway. She reached forward to the mound of dry red dirt beside her with stiff, robotic movements and picked up a handful.

"They thought he was scrawny. They thought he was weak."

She looked at the clumps in her hand, still sticky and stained red from Noah's blood. Red dirt, red blood... it all seemed morbidly poetic. Slowly, she turned her hand over and let the dirt trickle through her fingers, flinching at the soft thuds it made as it landed on Noah's body.

"But they didn't know shit about him," she whispered as the last clods of dirt fell from her hand. "About what he was."

 _About what I am._

Then she turned and walked away with heavy steps, leaving the rest of them behind to bury her friend.

* * *

A/N: As of right now, the projected timeline for this story should take me up to 25 or 30 chapters. Hopefully you all will stick around with me until then! Review/comment PLEASE (:

xo, kaitiebee89


	12. Thirst

Water.

The thought pulsed in his brain, pounded in tandem with every step he took.

 _Water. Water. Water._

Despite Daryl's best efforts, it was all he could think about. He pictured streams and lakes and waterfalls. Monsoons and puddles. Tall glasses with cloudy cubes of ice that clanked and floated at the top, condensation trickling down the sides in cool, tiny streams.

 _Water._

He swallowed, feeling the dry, sandpaper texture of his throat muscles constricting painfully. Thirst wasn't exactly a new experience for him but he was still amazed at how it overpowered everything, accompanying every errant thought that passed through his mind. It even temporarily blotted out the ache of hunger in his stomach.

 _Water._

It had been five days since they'd last seen water, filling their bottles in a pitiful looking stream about a mile from the place where their last working vehicle had sputtered to a stop, joining two others in a sort of rusty, roadside graveyard.

It had been a full day since they'd run out of that water.

He'd spent every ounce of excess energy hunting for it and found nothing but a dried up creek filled with dead fish, their narrow bodies sparkling like spare change in the sunlight that filtered down through the trees. No one else had managed to find anything more substantial than a putrid puddle here and there, each filled with water so slimy and stagnant they didn't dare touch it for fear of infection.

Daryl didn't know where they were, exactly, but it wouldn't have made a difference if he had. No one knew where they were going because, Daryl reasoned, they had nowhere _to_ go. There was no D.C, no more Noah, every reason they had for pushing this far north just another disappointing memory.

For the past few nights they had hopped from abandoned houses and ramshackle hunting cabins, surviving on what little they'd managed to hunt or catch and gnawing on plant leaves, roots, and the occasional fistful of berries or spongy mushroom heads. It felt as surreal and desperate as the last time they'd done so more than two years ago, running in circles down nameless Georgia back roads with growing hordes of walkers at their backs and nothing but uncertainty up ahead.

Now, as the group trudged down an entirely different state's nameless back road, Daryl wiped the beads of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and shot another disbelieving glance at the offending ball of fire perched high in the cloudless blue sky. It was unseasonably warm for so far into fall, the previous week's cool weather a distant and longed-for memory. Heat waves danced and distorted the scenery in the distance and filled the air with the scent of hot asphalt. He stared ahead at the shimmering air and found himself wishing that the world would stay solid, feeling hopelessly angry when it refused.

Quick glances of everyone's faces determined how little they had left. They were exhausted, beaten down by hunger and dehydration and the relentless, unforgiving heat. Their faces were drawn, their steps slow and heavy, as if they were trekking through knee deep mud rather than stepping over a smoothly paved road. Even if they found water in the next ten minutes, Daryl wasn't sure how much longer they could keep going like this, wandering aimlessly through the Virginia wilderness with the lack of basic necessities and the habitual act of living their only driving forces.

Their fearless leader was angry. The collective cloud of desperation that loomed over them all was steadily deepening the furrow between his brows, and he carried his body so rigidly Daryl half expected the next hot breeze that blew to crack him in half. Daryl knew Rick well enough to know he felt responsible for everything—the lack of water, the cars breaking down, the stupid and hateful sun currently trying to melt them into the concrete—although it never would have occurred to anyone else to blame him. Every time he spoke his voice sounded tighter, more impatient, his inability to provide and solve their problems filling him with an inescapable frustration that translated itself into clipped orders and harsh tones that did little for the overall group dynamic or Daryl's mood. The anger seemed to help fuel Rick however, feeding him energy no one else could muster up and consequently allowing him to lead the group with a feigned sense of direction.

Daryl's eyes landed on Beth, as they seemed to do of their own volition nowadays, plodding alongside Sasha with an unfocused gaze on the horizon. Sometime earlier in the day she had taken off her sweater and tied it around her waist, the sleeves like droopy grey tails that bumped her knees with every step she took. Tendrils of pale hair had fallen out of the messy knot she'd tied it in and hung limply around her face, but she didn't brush them away. He doubted she even noticed them.

They hadn't spoken more than a few words to each other since Noah's funeral. He'd tried, every day. But each time the words he thought he should say and the words he wanted to say got all jumbled up, and came out as incredibly comforting phrases like, "You want the rest of these blackberries?"

She'd grieved terribly for Noah, carrying a vacant expression on her face and an emptiness in her eyes that he hadn't seen from her when her own father died. He told himself that wasn't entirely fair, as running for survival had taken immediate precedence after Hershel's murder. She hadn't had the time to grieve.

Daryl knew that she hadn't cried, however, since the moments after Noah had drawn his last breath, curling over his body like a drooping sunflower. Her cries were quiet, muffled by her position, and her thin shoulders shook underneath his hand. He felt an ache bloom in his chest at the excruciating sadness he could do nothing to erase. When she straightened up minutes later her eyes were red as poppies, still leaking tears even as the sobs abruptly stopped. Without a word she'd fumbled blindly for the knife at her side.

"Beth," he'd said gently, her name leaving his lips like a question even as he reached out for the hand that held the knife. She didn't pull away from his touch but she shook her head calmly.

"It should be me."

With a steady hand she'd brought the blade to the boy's ear. Fresh tears fell from each eye and raced down her cheeks as she looked back down at Noah's still face, caressing his jaw with a careful, light touch. Then, in a burst of movement that almost surprised Daryl, she shoved the knife into his brain with a final shuddering sob, her face crumpling in agony before pulling it gently free. When she stood a few moments later she slowly wiped away the remnants of her tears, leaving gruesome red streaks under her eyes from the wet blood still clinging to her fingers.

And she hadn't cried since.

Daryl had found himself wondering on more than one occasion if something had happened between her and Noah. Something more than friendly. He remembered the desperate way she'd hugged him back at the hospital, wrapping her arms around him like she was afraid to let him go, seen the smile that had crept onto Noah's face as she did so. And then there was the morning at the warehouse when he'd woken up to the sight of her leaning on Noah's shoulder, their arms looped together while they watched the morning fire burn. She'd looked so comfortable with him, almost peaceful.

He kept lingering over those images, getting lost over the things he had heard Noah and Beth say about each other and picking them apart. Each time he'd be brought back to the present by the sharp pain of his nails piercing the skin of his palms, his fists clenched so tightly he could feel the bones straining under the skin, ready to burst through. He always felt embarrassed and ridiculous, angry at himself for being angry at a dead boy over something that probably hadn't even happened.

He didn't even know why he was so angry, so amped up with jealousy. He didn't have a right to. Not then, and certainly not now.

Did he?

He was thinking about it again, the threads of his thoughts difficult to hold onto as the sun continued to shine mercilessly in his eyes and unload its torrent of heat on his body. He was so lost in thought that when a solitary walker broke free of the tree line several yards ahead and stumbled into the group's path he barely registered it. Michonne walked toward it, pushing lazily past him as she unsheathed her sword. The hot breeze shifted as she cut it down mid-snarl and Daryl almost choked on the stench it carried with it. Rotting meat, mold, and the metallic stink of old blood.

 _Death._

Before his brain had even formed the thought of danger, the sound of growls and snarls of over a dozen walkers were surrounding them in the middle of the road.

Everyone was taken aback, the level of panic and tired yelps of surprise rising as the walkers bled through the trees and shuffled toward them in various states of decomposition. Abraham bellowed a string of colorful words while Daryl raised his bow and began shooting. He had already brought one down when Rick ordered them into a formation.

"Everyone in a circle!" He screamed, thrusting Judith into Carl's arms and herding them both behind him. "Tight formation, knives only! Take 'em out one at a time!"

Daryl fell back between Tyreese and Michonne. He fired his last two arrows into oncoming walkers before dropping his bow on the ground behind him and pulling out the hunting knife he'd accumulated on their last run. There were a few drops of rust where the blade met the hilt, but that didn't stop it from sliding cleanly through the roof of the next walker's mouth that hurried toward him. He stepped back and Michonne took his place, swiping her sword through the air and slicing the tops of two walker skulls cleanly off. As soon as she'd positioned her sword in front of her body with the blade pointing outward, Tyreese jumped forward and sunk his blunt hammer into another one.

Daryl's heart was pounding, pumping adrenaline through his veins and giving his weak, tired body some ability to fight back. All around him were the sounds of his family yelling and grunting with force as they stabbed, crushed, and decapitated, the thumps of dead weight hitting the pavement, the wet, slippery sound of weapons sliding free from long dead bodies. They were sounds he knew well, ones that he was accustomed to. It meant that things were going as well as could be expected, which was why the sound of a painful cry from behind him made his stomach drop.

Beside him Michonne brought down another walker, bringing her sword down on its head in a vertical arc that split it's skull like a watermelon. Tyreese raised his hammer and barreled towards the last one in front of them, giving Daryl time to glance back and see who was hurt.

Tara was being pulled into the middle of the circle holding her ankle, her face screwed up in pain. Eugene, crouched down beside her, was bleeding profusely from what looked like the top of his ear. Daryl locked eyes on Beth standing in a defensive crouch on the other side of the circle, her back to him and her knife shining wetly with blood.

The remaining few walkers were easy to pick off as the numbers shifted in their favor, and before long the ambush was over and they were standing in the middle of a haphazard ring of fallen walkers. For a moment they all stood quietly and listened for more, each person's eyes scanning the area around them and holding their weapons high, their bodies tense with anticipation. But not so much as a leaf shifted. The deafening buzz of unseen bugs and birds took up again and Daryl slowly dropped his knife, sheathing it before moving forward to collect his bows from the heads of walkers. When he rejoined the group, Tara was speaking.

"…and then I tripped over a walker lying on the ground behind me. I can't believe I didn't see it… Eugene tried to help me up and a walker leaned down, ready to bite him but Rosita got it just in time."

"I must've nicked the top of his ear when the blade went through the walker," Rosita said unapologetically. She had crouched down beside Eugene and was peering closely at the wound she'd inflicted, ignoring the man's flinches of pain. From where Daryl was standing it looked as if she'd managed to slice off a small chunk of the man's helix.

He glanced around at everyone else to take stock of injuries. Tyreese had a long gash across his bicep from when he'd gotten in the way of Michonne's sword that looked like it needed stitches, Glenn had a bleeding lip, and Gabriel looked like he was favoring one leg over the other. Beth, he was relieved to note, looked perfectly fine. She was breathing hard but had knelt in front of Tara and was already assessing the damage to her ankle. Everyone was splattered with dark walker blood and drenched in sweat, but appeared to have come out on the other side of the unexpected battle in one piece.

His adrenaline was fading fast. It burned away like gasoline and took what little strength he had left with it, leaving him lightheaded and with rubbery, useless feeling limbs that didn't seem capable of doing anything more strenuous than lying down.

"Looks like a sprain," Beth said suddenly. She'd managed to work off Tara's shoe and cradled the heel in one hand, her fingertips probing the visibly swelling ankle.

Tara swore under her breath as Beth tested her ankle's mobility and then sighed. "I guess that doesn't surprise me. It never healed right the first time."

"You hurt it before?"

"A couple of months ago," Tara nodded. "There wasn't exactly time to do the whole ice, elevate, and repeat thing." The corner of Beth's mouth quirked in amusement. She set Tara's foot gently on the warm pavement and looked up at Rick.

"It's swelling pretty quickly. I doubt she'll be able to walk on it for a couple of days," she said authoritatively. "And honestly that's being optimistic."

Rick blotted the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his t-shirt and looked silently down the road in the direction they had been heading, then back at the spot in the trees where the walkers had come through. Finally, after some deliberation, he pointed at the trees in the opposite direction.

"We'll move off the road and into the tree line for now, give us some cover in case more walkers show up. We can send four pairs out, one in each direction to scout ahead and find a place for tonight at the very least. If it won't work for a lengthier stay we can look again in the morning."

Daryl nodded in agreement and set about reloading his bow, planning on being a part of one of the groups that went ahead. As tired as he was, it wasn't in his genetic makeup to just sit around and wait. There was a flurry of movement as Tara was helped up and people began moving slowly towards the shade of the trees. Rick's voice kept going, calling out names and assigning directions over the din.

"Abraham and Rosita can go north. Michonne, you and Sasha go east—that's the direction the walkers came from so you both keep an eye out and watch each other's backs. I'll take Glenn south… see if we missed anything off the main road on the way up here. And Daryl? You and Beth can head west."

Daryl picked up his newly loaded crossbow and caught Beth's eye, feeling absurdly pleased when she gave him a small, surprised smile in response. She moved out from under Tara's arm and let Carol replace her, reaching down to collect her belongings. He reached around for the water bottle shoved in a mesh pocket on the side of his pack while he waited. There was an inch or so of slightly yellow water sloshing around at the bottom and it felt warm as bath water. He drank half of it, grimacing as he swallowed and offered the bottle to her as she stepped closer to him.

"It ain't moonshine," he said in a low, conspiratorial tone. "But I promise it's just as disgusting." She said nothing, frowning at the bottle, and for a moment he could see his little joke dying, floundering awkwardly in the space between their feet. But then she snorted, a genuine smile that made her eyes light up stretching across her face and burning away some of the cobwebs of grief that had taken up residence over her features. She took the bottle and tipped it back.

"Thanks, Mr. Dixon," she said, handing him back the empty bottle.

And then they were off.


	13. The Face that Haunts

Beth could barely pick up her feet she was so drained and yet—she was annoyed to discover—Daryl still walked through the woods silent as a ghost.

The two of them had walked north with Abraham and Rosita for a quarter of a mile before veering off onto an unmarked strip of pavement heading west. In an effort to stay out of the sun, Daryl had suggested they walk along the side of the road under the cover of the trees, and because she could feel her fair skin crisping in the hot rays she agreed. And ever since then she'd been making an ungodly amount of noise while he walked along beside her as if on air.

It amazed her that he could do that. She remembered staring at his feet when he'd been teaching her how to hunt and track, hardly able to focus on the things he was explaining to her because she was so in awe of how quietly he moved over the carpet of dead leaves and brush. She'd mimicked his motions, his posture, even the way he breathed, and the effect had been something akin to an elephant wearing tap shoes stomping around the Georgian back country.

A large twig cracked under her boot, startling a nearby branch full of birds into the air above them. Beth found herself staring almost angrily at his feet again, sure that he had to be walking on entirely different ground than she was. He caught her staring and glanced over without turning his head, raising his eyebrows in a silent query.

"How do you do that?" She huffed.

"Do what?"

"Walk like that!" Daryl frowned, looking more amused than hurt by her obvious irritation, but made no move to answer her. "You don't make a sound. We're walking through a damn forest and you're over there quiet as a church mouse. No twig snapping, no leaf crunching, no scaring stupid flocks of stupid birds into the air. And you're not even trying to be quiet! You just are and… and… it's incredibly annoying."

He appeared to mull her tirade over for a moment then took a sudden step away from her, moving closer to the tree line.

Almost instantly she felt the bitter taste of shame bubbling up in her stomach. Of all the people in the world who deserved to be snapped at, Daryl wasn't one of them. Especially not over something as unbelievably ridiculous as her jealousy over the way he walked. If she were him, she wouldn't want to walk next to her either.

She was about to apologize when he paused by the trunk of an oak tree whose leaves had turned a brilliant, fiery red. He glanced up, presumably to make sure she was watching before taking a purposeful step on a fallen branch nestled between the protruding roots of the tree. It popped and snapped multiple times under the weight of his foot. Then he smiled.

Beth rolled her eyes but felt the unwarranted anger fleeing her body like air from a leaky balloon. He fell back beside her and they continued walking.

"I'm sorry," she said after a few moments of silence.

Daryl shook his head. "Ain't nothin' to be sorry for."

She knew that wasn't true. There were an innumerable amount of things she was sorry for lately, the least of which was treating Daryl like crap for no reason. Noah's face flashed across her mind, his dark eyes and goofy grin. No matter what people said his death was preventable, and it was her who could have prevented it. If she hadn't left him alone, hadn't let herself be distracted, she would have seen the walker coming and stopped it from biting him.

 _I'm sorry, Noah._

His face faded away and was replaced by a quick succession of faces from Grady: Joan, Gorman, Dawn, Dr. Edwards. The doctor she'd murdered, the cop she'd shoved down an elevator shaft.

 _I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry._

The memories and faces swirled together and for a moment she forgot to breathe. She also forgot to watch where she was going.

Beth felt her foot collide with something solid hidden beneath the piles of crunchy fallen leaves, a loud clunk registering in her ears as she lost her balance and pitched forward. The ground rose up to meet her and she braced for impact, a squeal of surprise stuck in her throat, when suddenly she felt Daryl's hands, one on her waist and the other gripping her arm, pulling her back.

She felt her face flame as he helped right her, but she wasn't entirely sure if it was from embarrassment, the feel of his arm like an iron bar of warmth across her waist, or how he'd pulled her flush against him. She felt the rise and fall of his chest once against her back and then he was gone, stepping around her and looking concerned.

"You alright?" He asked carefully. She saw his eyes flick to the bandage taped to her head, thankful when he said nothing about it like everyone else would have.

She could still feel the imprint of his hand on her stomach like a burn, and her hand came to rest over top of it of its own accord. She knew she should answer him. She _wanted_ to answer him. And yet she merely blinked, momentarily forgetting any word that didn't describe the intense blue of his eyes.

 _The-ocean-after-a-storm blue. Cobalt, navy, indigo, flecks of cornflower blue._

 _I-see-you-Beth blue._

"Yeah…" she finally breathed. "I just tripped over something."

Daryl searched her face for a moment as if deciding whether or not she was lying to him. Then he turned, crouching down in front of her and began brushing the dry husks of leaves away from the spot she'd tripped. She watched cautiously over his shoulder, trying to collect herself but half-ready for something alive and biting to burst free. He dug for a moment, using both hands to wrench a black metal container with a red flag on its side free from the earth.

A mailbox?

They exchanged a bewildered look and Beth glanced around. It didn't make sense for that to be there being as they were in the middle of nowhere. She hadn't even thought they were on a real road.

Daryl stood and cocked his head to the side, his gaze drifting across the road. Beth looked too but all she saw was trees. She followed, however, when he stepped out of the shade and walked briskly to the other side of the road, approaching a row of pines with long branches that stretched their hairy green fingers towards the ground. He looked over each one as if they were a wall he was trying to figure out how to climb. Suddenly he dropped down at the base of one and began brushing aside thick clumps of leaves, grass, and rust colored needles, lifting the branches that brushed the ground as he did so.

"What do you see?" Beth asked, stepping closer to watch his hands. He didn't answer for a moment, absorbed in his task. She wasn't entirely sure he'd even heard her.

"There was a driveway here," he said finally, pointing to the barely visible strip of dirt he had uncovered. Beth shot him a disbelieving look. It looked like regular, forest floor dirt to her. But then she took a closer look at the trees, at the width of the path and the gaps between the two trees higher up, and suddenly she could see it. How the hanging branches had grown over the path and melded together like a curtain of pine, hiding the path from the road completely.

Daryl stood and pushed aside the lower branches, motioning her to follow him through. The long branches were heavy but pliable, and they parted easily for her as she stepped into them. The cool, green scent of the pines enveloped her and for a moment all she could see were the branches of the trees, surprised at the softness of the needles that brushed across her bare skin. Several steps later and she was stumbling free of their embrace, stepping into normal looking woods behind Daryl.

Beth followed him quietly for a spell, watching him track the trail. Parts of it were obvious even to her untrained eye, stretches of worn down dirt with a strip of grass down the middle obviously made by tires driving up and down it. But it disappeared altogether in places and Daryl would pause, his eyes tracing the pattern of the trees in front of them and unlocking clues that her eyes couldn't.

She could tell they were close to something when Daryl picked up the pace. It was lighter up ahead, large patches of deep blue sky peeking through the canopy of brown and green. She lengthened her stride to keep up with Daryl and found herself hoping there was something up there worth all the anticipation that burned in her chest.

Eventually the trail widened, fanning out into what she thought looked like a grassy, open space. But Daryl motioned her away from the trailhead and walked in the opposite direction, staying hidden under the cover of the ground plant foliage. It was smart, she knew, to approach any place with caution and stake it out before waltzing up to the front door. But she had a good feeling about what sat at the end of the trail and was impatient to see it.

Daryl paused between two large, fruitless blackberry bushes that would keep them hidden from the other side and beckoned her beside him. Slowly he pushed aside the greenery to reveal a sun-faded log cabin sitting patiently in the middle of a natural, completely secluded forest clearing and overlooking a large, slightly murky pond about fifty yards away. Beth bit back a gasp.

It was beautiful.

The cabin was small and square, with a wide front porch that hugged the front of the house and remained covered by an overhang. A path of large, flat stepping stones led from the porch steps and down the slightly sloping lawn to a rickety dock where a metal row boat floated on the still water. Beth could see the top of a chimney peeking out from the roof on the other side of the house, made of the same colored stone as the pathway to the pond. The late afternoon sun glinted off of two windows jutting out from the sharply sloped roof, leading her to believe there was more than one level to the charming little house.

The clearing itself was just as breathtaking as the cabin, surrounded as it was by tall trees and speckled with late blooming wildflowers. The grass was taller in certain areas of the clearing and in it hid clumps of gold and purple aster, while lingering black-eyed susans, ironweed, and delicate stalks of Queen Anne's lace dotted the perimeter. When the warm breeze blew, she could hear nothing but the thousands of leaves rustling overhead and the whisper of the grass as it swayed.

It looked almost completely untouched, as if it had been quietly waiting there just for them. Beth felt peculiar warmth spread through her limbs as she gazed upon what they had discovered.

She looked up at Daryl and grinned.

"It's perfect."

* * *

The mood around the fire that night was peaceful, the luxury of a decent place to hole up in for a while combined with an abundance of fresh water and bellies that were full of fresh caught bluegill putting satisfied smiles on everyone's faces.

It was a tight fit with everyone inside. The cabin, which Beth gathered had been some kind of vacation house for a hunter or older couple, had only four rooms: a large loft that looked down onto the living room, a kitchen, and a single bathroom with a claw foot bathtub and tarnished brass fixtures. The furniture was plain and rustic, but comfortable. And although there were no framed photos or artwork anywhere, someone had decorated the walls with needle-point samplers and offset the books on the shelves that sentried the fireplace with dusty knick-knacks.

The cabin was well stocked for their purposes. There were blankets and towels in a closet by the front door, half full bottles of shampoo and laundry detergent and a first aid kit in the bathroom, cooking supplies and dishware in the cupboards above the kitchen sink. A rusty toolbox sat on the front porch as well as a small pile of wood covered by a ratty blue tarp. Scouring drawers got them a box of matches, thick, sweet smelling candles, extra flashlights, a pocket sewing kit, a deck of playing cards, and several dusty cans of food in the pantry.

But the crowning jewel of their cabin oasis was the propane tank out back; its peeling metal body allowed them to have running water and hot showers.

Night had fallen and Beth had yet to bathe, though most everyone else had. She could still smell the pine in her hair and lingering on her sticky skin, but it wasn't doing much to cover up the stink of her.

While she waited her turn she kneeled on the floor in front of Tara and focused on wrapping her ankle in a thick, faun colored gauze. Carol had used one of the instant ice packs from their kit on it while they waited for the scouting groups to come back, but Beth didn't think it had done much to bring the swelling down.

Every part of her body ached with fatigue, but the thought of sleep had anxiety coursing through her veins. She was tired of seeing the faces of the dead every time she closed her eyes. No one else seemed to be having that problem however, the soft hum of bodies breathing and snoring and shifting in their sleep washing over her as she finished wrapping Tara's ankle.

When she finished, she lifted it off her lap and set it down gently on the pillow Rosita had fetched for her on the coffee table.

"You're all set," she said, shooting Tara a tired smile as she gathered up the first aid kit. "No walking on it. You can hop or crawl or walk on your hands, but no weight goes on that ankle."

Tara gave a jaunty salute in reply, but Beth saw the glib mask slip long enough to catch a glimpse of her anxiety. She leaned forward and placed her hand on Tara's knee.

"Don't worry," she whispered. "We're safe for now. There won't be any need to run."

Tara smiled gratefully and nodded. Beth ordered her to rest and watched to make sure she closed her eyes before heading to the empty kitchen with the first aid kit.

Beth heard the bathroom door open as she reassembled the kit and she smiled slightly to herself at the thought of sinking into warm water and mountains of soap bubbles. Maybe it would relax her enough so that she could fall into a couple hours of dreamless sleep.

"Beth?"

Beth turned and felt her heart jump into her throat. Carol stood behind her with the baby in her arms, but for a moment she'd been wearing Gorman's face. She smiled kindly at Beth to cover up the awkward silence. "Are you busy? Tyreese's shirt got all torn to hell today and I told him I'd mend it, but Judith's being obstinate and won't go to sleep. I thought maybe you could take her for a while?"

Beth said nothing. She couldn't get air into her lungs.

"Beth?" Carol asked again. Her features kept shifting and distorting into Gorman in the dim, flickering light from the fireplace. She stepped forward and Beth immediately took a step back, bumping up against the kitchen cabinets as Carol's fingers brushed down her arm. The edge of the counter top dug into her back and she grabbed hold of the edges, her fingers stiff and crabbed as the tines of a rake.

 _So how 'bout it Bethy? We gonna work somethin' out here?_

 _You're dead,_ she tried to say. _I watched you die._ But her mouth was frozen shut, paralyzed by the fear that that wasn't true. After all, the dead had been rising for years now.

Alarm and confusion danced in Carol's ice-blue eyes but Beth couldn't see it. She couldn't see her or Judith, couldn't hear her name being called. All she saw was Gorman, pinning her against the counter the same way he'd pinned her to the desk in Dawn's office. His face inched closer to hers and his hand curled around her bicep as the room began to spin in a dizzying fog of shadows and faces she'd thought were long dead.

 _The lollipop jar._ Where was the lollipop jar?

Her hand scrabbled at the smooth countertop behind her and came up empty.

In a last, desperate burst of movement she wrenched the other hand free from its death grip on the countertop and bared it down on the bony hand around her arm, her nails tearing at the skin. She heard a cry of surprise, the shrill sound piercing Beth's eardrums and instantly transforming Carol back into herself. Reality quickly reclaimed ownership of her mind and her eyes refocused, the realization of what she'd done making her stomach sink with horror.

Carol stood in front of her with her arms wrapped protectively around Judith looking stunned, a perfectly shaped drop of blood dripping sluggishly down the back of her hand. Maggie, who had appeared sometime when Carol had been wearing Gorman's face, stood just behind Carol with a hand on the older woman's shoulder and stared wide eyed at Beth, a blend of shock, disappointment, and fear sitting plainly on her face.

Something sharp twisted in her gut. Her sister had never looked at her that way before.

Recognizing she was still pinned against the countertop she skirted past them into the bathroom with her head down, shame crowding at her heels like a mangy black dog, and slammed the door shut behind her. She turned the lock with a soft click and stumbled to the sink, gasping for air as she leaned over it and clutched its sides.

What was wrong with her? Why had she let that happen?

Her sister beat softly on the door, tap-tap-tapping and calling out her name in an urgent whisper but Beth ignored it. She peeled her hands off of the cool porcelain of the sink and eyed the angry red lines that cut across her palms before curling her fingers over them in tight fists. Then she glanced up in the cloudy glass hanging above the sink and stared at the dirty, scarred, wild-eyed girl reflecting back at her. Her eyes filled with tears.

She didn't recognize that girl at all.


	14. I See Them

The embers were all that remained of the fire, glowing like angry red eyes amongst the silty ashes and casting a dim orange glow over the sleeping occupants spread throughout the living room.

Daryl, awake out of habit, sat on the short end of the L-shaped kitchen counter picking at a bowl of leftover fish and casting surreptitious glances out the front door. From his seat he had a direct view of Beth through the screen, standing alone on the front porch and leaning against the railing.

Maggie stood at the other end of the counter. She had her arms folded limply across her waist as if she was trying to hold herself together, tucked in and whole. She didn't speak to him which was fine with Daryl. Instead, she stared into space and chewed absently on her bottom lip, looking sad and angry and annoyed all at once.

The bathroom door opened with a mousy squeak and Rick stepped out in a cloud of steam. He stepped carefully over the sleeping bodies as he headed towards them, pausing at the couch Carl was sharing with Tara to rub a hand over the top of his son's head.

"Have you talked to Beth?" Rick asked Maggie kindly when he reached the kitchen. She shook her head and gestured with a limp nod towards the front door.

"She's been outside since she got out of the bathroom."

Rick ran a hand through the damp, tangled curls on his head. "Any idea what set her off?"

"Carol says she just freaked out," Maggie explained in a low whisper. "That she was perfectly fine until Carol asked her to hold the baby and then Beth turned around and lost it. She wouldn't look at her or answer her… like she just went somewhere else. And then she scratched up Carol's hand."

Daryl frowned into his bowl. That didn't sound like a run of the mill panic attack or typical grieving behavior.

"I need her to talk about what's bothering her," Maggie continued, sounding sad as she crossed her arms tighter across her chest. "She can't keep going on like this, having episodes and freaking out at people unprovoked. I don't understand why she refuses when I know it would be good for her. I keep telling her that if it were me in her position I would want that. To get it all off my chest. But she's still mad and doesn't want to hear anything I have to say."

Rick sighed and glanced through the door at Beth's shadowy figure. "Could be any number of things. Grief, exhaustion, her head… maybe a combination of all three?"

Daryl kept his eyes on Beth as he listened to their back and forth, noting how the swollen moon lined Beth's figure in threads of silver-white light. He didn't like having whispered meetings about her in the dark and talking about her like she wasn't ten feet away. Like just because she was struggling with something no one else could see she suddenly wasn't Beth, but rather something inconveniently broken that had to be fixed.

Maggie was still going on about why she needed Beth to open up, why it was callous of her to treat others poorly because she refused to relinquish her grip on her own pain.

"But she's not _you_ , Maggie," Daryl barked suddenly, whatever lingering patience he'd had for the conversation shattering so spectacularly he could almost see the shards glittering on the linoleum under his boots. Maggie looked at him in surprise, her eyebrows rising slightly at his outburst.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Daryl sighed, instantly regretting opening his mouth. He liked Maggie and he didn't want to fight with her, though she was clearly still peeved at him. He just wanted her to stop treating Beth like she was an inconvenient problem she couldn't check off of her to-do list. He picked at the plastic lip of the bowl in his lap.

"It means what you need isn't necessarily what she needs right now."

"And since when did you become an expert on what my sister does or does not need?" Maggie scoffed, turning her body towards him.

"Maggie," Rick started, "Beth trusts Daryl. Maybe you should let him give it a go for a while, see if he can get her to open up. Give yourself a break."

Maggie's furious eyes flashed to Rick and she jabbed her index finger at her chest. "I'm her sister. I know best what she needs, not Daryl."

Daryl decided against mentioning that the whole "blood wins" argument hadn't made an appearance in her brain when she was out searching for Glenn, practically ignoring the fact that she had a sister. "Maggie, if you knew shit about what your sister needed we wouldn't even be havin' this stupid conversation."

Maggie's frown deepened, her eyes narrowing as a tense quiet built up around them. "So what does she need then, Daryl?" She asked finally. "You?"

He felt her slightly appalled disbelief like a slap, inwardly cringing at the implication that the idea of anyone needing him in an emotional way, especially someone like Beth, was preposterous. Absolutely absurd.

Rick took a step forward and put his hands up between them at the barb, shooting Maggie a reproachful look. "Alright, alright," he hissed. "That's enough. We all care about Beth, and we're all worried about her. But being nasty to each other isn't gonna solve a damn thing."

"Doesn't matter," Daryl growled as he slid off of the counter. He reached around Rick and snatched his jacket off a hook on the wall. "I'm done."

He stalked out of the room and shoved his arms in the sleeves of his jacket, fully intent on spending the night outside. But he halted in the doorway when he saw Beth, resting his hand on the splintering doorframe.

She had her arms wrapped loosely around her thin frame and her head tilted up towards the clear night sky. Something about the way she stood there radiated peacefulness; the shifty, restlessness was gone from her limbs, and the tension she'd taken to carrying in her neck and shoulders appeared as insignificant as the wispy puffs of air she exhaled.

For a moment Daryl thought about letting her be. He knew better than anyone how vital moments of solitude were and how, if you were patient enough to let it, nature had ways of healing the brokenness inside a body. And if there was anything that Beth needed, it was time to heal. But he could feel eyes boring holes into his back from the dark room he'd just left, no doubt curious as to why he was still standing in the doorway when he'd been so adamant to leave only moments before. With a quiet sigh he pushed off of the doorframe and walked slowly towards Beth, the old boards creaking and groaning with each step until he was standing right beside her.

Now high in the sky, the full moon bathed the world in a silvery-blue light that illuminated almost as much as it threw into deep shadow. Fractals of moonlight danced on the pond's surface while the trees of the forest stood like black, bony sentries in a misshapen circle around them, though their power as guards did less than the strings of tin cans and Sasha perched on the roof with a rifle did. But with the light breeze moving fresh, cool air into his lungs and the infinite number of stars shining above like pinpricks of light in the velvet sky, it was almost enough to make him forget that the world was shit and Maggie was being an asshole and how very, very stupid he felt for thinking about Beth the way he had been.

Beth had her eyes closed, letting the light soak into her skin and hair almost as if she were sunbathing. The pale light drained her face and hair of color, throwing her features into sharp, geometric relief that emphasized the thinness in her cheeks and the deep hollows of her collarbones. She really was too thin. And yet still she glowed with that effortless way she always had, her beauty so raw and real that it almost hurt to look at her.

Though her porch companion said nothing, Beth knew instantly that it was Daryl standing beside her, recognizing the weight in his step and the scent of leather and cigarettes that settled over her without his having to say a word. Had it been anyone else interrupting her time alone with the moon, she would have been angry. But Daryl's presence was just as soothing as the peaceful, ivory orb and even more welcome. With her head still tilted back, she cracked open her left eye to look at him, the corner of her mouth lifting in a smile as their eyes met.

"You okay?" She asked softly. She had only tuned in to the tail end of the whispered argument between him, Rick, and her sister, but she had heard enough to know he was upset.

He nodded once but said nothing, his gaze quickly shifting out over the clearing. Beth too remained quiet, and he was grateful that she wasn't pushing the matter. He didn't think he could explain to her face why he was so angry with her sister, because then he would have to tell her how he could feel his need to keep her safe from her own family bleeding into other feelings that he didn't have names for. How it had him all kinds of twisted up and confused and how, strangely enough, he didn't mind so much.

He began fumbling in the pockets of his jacket, pulling out a crumpled cigarette and a book of matches that advertised for Howdy's Bar & Grille in faded red letters on the front. Though she knew he'd likely found the book somewhere, the thought of Daryl eating at any restaurant called Howdy's struck Beth as extremely comical. But she bit back her laughter and watched as he stuck the crooked cigarette between his lips and lit one of the few remaining matches, the burst of yellow flame the only spot of color in the silvery night.

The taste of the cigarette on his tongue was an instant balm on his nerves, and Daryl fought the urge to close his eyes and moan at the relief. He saw Beth's knowing smile widen as he took another drag, and before he knew what he was doing he reached toward her with the cigarette glowing between his fingers.

Beth opened both eyes and turned to face him, her eyes crinkling with amusement at his silent, smoking offering.

"For me?"

Daryl nodded again, exhaling a stream of smoke through his nostrils. "You ever had one?"

"What do you think?" She said with a laugh that sounded sad to his ears. She reached out and took the cigarette from him like he knew she would, their fingers brushing in a way that made him think of the time she'd held his hand in front of a stranger's grave, giving comfort as much as she sought it by weaving her fingers in-between his own.

Beth held the cigarette between her first and second fingers like she'd seen people do in the movies and hesitated, unsure of exactly how to proceed.

"I just… inhale?"

"Pull just a little into your mouth to start… you don't want to take in too much or you'll start coughin' up a lung," Daryl said as he lowered his body down onto the top step. Beth followed his lead and sat down beside him, close enough that he could feel the heat from her arm and leg seeping into his own. "Then when you pull the cigarette out you take a deep breath and pull the smoke into your lungs."

With a sheepish smile that demonstrated her inexperience, Beth nodded.

"Yes, Mr. Dixon," she said teasingly, before bringing the cigarette to her lips to do as he'd instructed. The tip smoldered a deep, fiery orange as she sucked in a small, hot cloud of smoke and tried to drag it deep into her lungs the way she'd watched him do countless times before. She winced as the smoke traveled down her throat and into her chest, finding the burn to be much less enjoyable than the moonshine's.

Despite her best efforts at a graceful first smoke, the burning in her chest and throat became too much to bear and she began coughing, the inhaled smoke bursting from her mouth in a filmy cloud. She was rewarded for her pain, however, with a rare smile that crept across Daryl's face as she handed over the offending instrument. He took another drag as Beth dabbed at her watering eyes with the worn cuffs of her sweater, smooth and effortless.

"Show off," she muttered as the coughing fit subsided and Daryl's smile widened.

"You did good," he said, ignoring the pointed look she gave him. "First time I smoked I got so nauseous I puked up a peanut butter and jelly sandwich right on my shoes."

Beth wrinkled her nose. "You decided to smoke your first cigarette after eating a PB&J?"

Daryl nodded. "I was eleven. About all I knew how to make myself was PB&J and ham sandwiches."

He tapped the cigarette and watched the loose ashes fall.

"I stole 'em from my old man which was dumb," he continued. "Got my ass beat when he found out. Gave me one for stealin' from him and another for ruinin' my shoes."

Although she had an idea of what Daryl's childhood had been like, hearing him describe it out loud, even about things that he hardly seemed bothered by, made something in her chest tighten with a mixture of anger and sadness. She wondered, not for the first time, how the man sitting beside her had turned out as good as he had. How he had managed to lock away the abuse and the anger and come out on the other side so thoughtful and kind.

A slightly awkward silence fell between them thanks in part to her reveries, and though she hadn't planned to continue, Beth reached over and plucked the cigarette out of his fingers and brought it to her lips to break it. The end was slightly damp now, and the thought of his lips being responsible for it sent a zip of pleasure down her spine.

"It suits you," Daryl said as she handed it back to him and before taking a shallow drag of his own.

Quickly they drifted into a companionable silence, staring out at the dark forest and passing the cigarette back and forth like a smoky baton. Though he offered her the last drag Beth declined and let him finish it off, feeling something low in her belly flip-flop as she watched him take a final inhale and ground out the remaining sparks with the toe of his boot.

"My Daddy would have killed me if he caught me with one of those," she said with a nod at the flattened remnants of the cigarette butt on the step.

Daryl smirked. "Probably right after he killed me for givin' it to you."

"No," she smiled, bumping his knee with hers in a way she hoped seemed casual and not like she just wanted to touch him again. "He'd have made you copy down scripture or memorize a chapter of the bible or something. But he liked you far too much to kill you."

Daryl didn't let himself think of the dead very often. Not because it hurt, which it did, and not because he was afraid to feel it, which he wasn't. But for a moment he let himself think of Hershel, the original pillar of wisdom, goodness, and unfailing strength in their little group. Growing up, Daryl hadn't known men could _be_ like that. And knowing a man like Hershel had liked and respected him made him feel like maybe he was a little bit good too.

And then, his stomach churning pleasurably with such an affirmation, he let himself wonder what Hershel would have thought of him and Beth. Would he have accepted it as easily as he had accepted Glenn and Maggie? Would it have made the old man happy to see his youngest daughter with someone like him?

 _It, little brother? Last time I checked there ain't no 'you and Beth,' so I don't know why you're gettin' you're panties all in a knot worryin' 'bout it. You're a grown ass man. Have some god damn pride for Chrissakes._

Blood rushed to his cheeks and he felt immensely grateful for the darkness. The last thing he needed was to have Beth see him blush like a little girl because his dead big brother wouldn't stop taunting him. But it didn't matter, because when he glanced over at her she wasn't looking at him at all. Her face had gone funny, sadness and something else creeping across her face like clouds over the moon.

"Hey. You alright?"

Beth wasn't sure how to answer. Embarrassment and regret had cocooned themselves around her like a wet blanket in the couple of hours since she'd left Carol and Judith in the kitchen. She couldn't move without feeling the weight of them on her skin. Her memories had also evolved from nightmares to hallucinations that forced her to keep reliving things she wanted desperately to erase from her history. And Maggie and Carol thought she was stone cold crazy.

So no, not really that alright.

She knew Daryl wouldn't specifically ask about earlier because he understood all too well that some secrets caused more pain when they were spoken aloud. If she answered yes, he'd believe her. And if she said no, he'd accept it. He wouldn't push. But she also knew that's why he'd come out and sat down beside her, to be there to listen if that's what she needed.

And she really did need it.

"There was this man back at the hospital," she started, her voice sounding strangely empty and robotic. She could feel the weight of his name on the back of her tongue, heavy and sour, and it took a minute before she could work it out. "Gorman. He tried to rape me."

Daryl didn't move a muscle and she was grateful for his stillness. She needed it to continue.

"He'd done it before to other girls. It wasn't a secret, just a thing that some of them did. And no one said a word. None of the other cops, the decent ones… they just turned their heads and let it happen. Let him and the others control and degrade and ruin those girls' lives over and over again."

Beth could feel the burn of unshed tears at the back of her throat, the overwhelming anger she had pushed down deep for so long begin to boil over at the thought of Gorman and that damn hospital. She looked down at her hands in her lap, at the black dirt that framed her cuticles and the smudges on the backs of her hands. This was good dirt. Healthy, natural, from-the-earth dirt. Stains she could be clean of if she so chose.

She looked back up and met Daryl's gaze, which hadn't wavered from her for a moment. The images flashed before her eyes and suddenly she couldn't get the words out fast enough.

"I killed him," she whispered, unable to hide the venom and desperation that made her voice waver. "I… he had me pinned between a desk and his… his hands were all over me like they had every right to be, pushing up against me and telling me I owed him for saving my life."

She could still feel his clammy hands roaming underneath her shirt, the heat of his breath on her neck, the press of his erection against her thigh. It made her want to vomit. Beth saw Daryl's hands slowly curl into fists, the whites of his knuckles glowing in the moonlight like a line of pearls. She took a shaky breath.

"He told me I was weak and that he knew I wouldn't fight back. And while he… when he started I took this glass jar of lollipops and I bashed him in the head with it. Joan did the rest."

For a moment there was nothing but the night sounds of the forest that surrounded them. Beth tried to focus on breathing, forcing the crisp, cool air deep into her lungs and pushing it back out again in audible exhales. She felt lighter having shared her secret but the images lingered. They were muted, mere smudges compared to what they had been. But they were still there, like tinted lenses coloring everything she saw.

"Who's Joan?" Daryl asked abruptly, his voice a low growl.

Beth sniffed, swatting at a lone, salty tear dribbling down her cheek. "Joan was a girl who killed herself with a pair of scissors so that she wouldn't be raped anymore," she answered. "She turned just before Gorman… when I hit him with the jar he fell and she tore out his throat. She'd tried to kill herself once before right after I woke up by letting a walker bite her on the arm. Dr. Edwards and Dawn made me help them cut off her arm so she'd live. I… I didn't know at the time who I was really helping."

"You couldn't have known," Daryl said softly.

"If Joan hadn't done what she did when she did it, he would've succeeded," Beth said dejectedly, swallowing down the gurgle of bile that rose in her throat. It was the first time she'd said it out loud, the first time she'd acknowledged how indebted she was to Joan's desperate death. "That glass jar was all I had."

"You would've kept fighting," Daryl nodded. "You would've found some other way."

She directed her gaze up at the moon and he watched her closely, feeling the familiar pinch of his nails digging into each of his palms. But he did not loosen his fists; instead he tried to focus his anger at the disgusting, pathetic excuse of a man he'd never met into the sharp pains. He had known something like this was coming, but it didn't make it any easier to hear or make him feel any less helpless, knowing that she'd had to go through that alone.

"Was that what happened in the kitchen earlier?"

Beth's eyes flicked to his with a detectable wariness. She didn't want him to think she was going crazy like Rick had when Lori died. But she figured she'd gone this far so she held his gaze and nodded slowly. "I thought I saw him. Carol… she was wearing his face."

His expression didn't change and his eyes were reassuring.

"I see all of them," she admitted in a strained whisper, shame and fear bleeding through her words. "Dawn, Edwards, Gorman. There was another cop… a bad one. I pushed him down an elevator shaft to save Dawn, if you can believe that. I see their faces. I see what they did to me, what they made me do to others."

Her voice caught and Daryl reached for her hand without thinking, slipping it from her lap and lacing his fingers through hers, knowing it was what she'd do if the situation was reversed. He was kind of proud of himself. The gesture had almost completely stopped feeling awkward.

"Beth," he said, "you're still good. You're still you." She shook her head in protest, squeezing her eyes shut. But Daryl pushed on. "Naw, you listen to me. Whatever you've done, whatever you had to do… it kept you goin' and brought you back to us."

 _And me. It brought you back to me._

He could feel her shaking with the effort it took not to sob. For a moment Daryl thought she was going to get up, that the building pressure of the things she couldn't or refused to say and his feelings of inadequacy at fixing her hurt were too much. But he wasn't going to let go until then. He didn't think he could have even if he'd wanted to.

"Daryl," she choked out, her voice rough with emotion. "I lost a part of me. They… they took it from me. And nothing can be the same as it was before. I can't keep pretending like the things I've done don't bother me, that they haven't changed me for the worse." She bit her lip and looked down at her lap, and Daryl watched a tear fall from her eyes. She took a deep breath. "You know I look at Judy and see a blank slate, so much good and innocence. And after everything that's happened, after what I did to Carol today… I can't touch her. I can't hold her close to me and ruin her faster than this world is already going to."

The cynicism in her words surprised him, so something he would say but like nothing he ever expected to hear from her. For a moment he felt as if the world had gone still, the night air taking on a muffled quality as an alarming chill pulsed in his chest. If Beth Greene had lost her hope than neither he nor the world stood a chance.

"Do you remember what you told me before?" He asked. "Back at the moonshine shack?"

Beth sniffed and shook her head, a bitter laugh falling from her lips. "I said a lot of things, Daryl. I was drunk."

He angled his body towards hers, tightening his grip on her hand. "If you don't put it away, it's gonna kill you."

Her head fell, drooping over her lap as her eyelids fluttered shut and he knew she remembered.

"You're tough Beth. But you're good too. There ain't nothin' you could do that'll change that. And as for Asskicker? That little girl is lucky to have someone to love her like you do, to teach her how to be soft and strong, to find beauty in this shithole we live in. You hear me girl?"

Beth shook her head again. "I don't feel tough. I feel like I'm losing my mind."

He wasn't sure who moved first, if he pulled her closer of if she melded her body into his. But suddenly her head was tucked against his shoulder, the softness of her hair brushing against his neck and collarbone as their joined hands balanced on his knee.

"How am I supposed to be strong when I'm constantly afraid of falling apart?" She asked a moment later, the tears that coated her throat making her voice a hoarse whisper. She already felt broken beyond repair, the idea of having to glue herself back together day after day and pretend she was fine, pretend that what had happened to her hadn't happened to keep her family in the dark was almost more than she could bear.

"You let me help you," he answered. She looked up at him with eyes like pools of liquid silver, so full of empty, un-Beth-like sadness it made his stomach twist itself into knots.

"What if you can't?"

Maggie's spiteful words from earlier echoed in his head, her disbelief shrinking his resolve. Here she was, exposing her brokenness to him with vulnerable, shaking hands and he felt suddenly paralyzed with fear. He wanted to help her, more than he had ever wanted to help another person. But what if he couldn't? What if, despite his best efforts and intentions, what Beth needed was nothing he could offer? He wasn't good at making people feel better or saying the right thing, and he never had been. And Beth deserved someone who could do those things for her.

She shifted slightly, the top of her head grazing the underside of his jaw, and a sudden overwhelming feeling of purpose and peace washed over him, quieting the self-conscious worry.

"I can," he whispered. "For you I can."

* * *

A/N: This was another scene written before the story itself came together, and it was written from both points of view. I know it doesn't match the back and forth POV of the rest of the story, and I tried to re-write it to be solely from Daryl's POV but it didn't sound near as good. A lot of my favorite details got dropped and the chapter suffered/didn't accomplish what I wanted it to. So I decided to keep it the way it was, because it's fanfiction and I can do what I want (: This is one of my favorite chapters so far, and I sincerely hope the discontinuity doesn't throw anyone off too much.

xo, kaitiebee89


	15. I Still Want Things

Daryl awoke to the sounds of an engine rumbling to life late the next morning still lying in the corner of the porch he'd escaped to after an exhausted Beth had gone back inside to sleep. Squinting in the bright, mid-morning light he sat up stiffly and rolled his neck, feeling the relief in each pop along his neck and spine.

He was surprised he'd slept so long, especially considering that everyone else was up and moving. Down by the pond Tara and Eugene were fishing, parked in camp chairs on the overgrown bank with a lidless blue cooler between them. At the clearing's edge he saw Carol, Rosita, and Maggie fashioning tangled strings of noisy objects they'd collected to fortify some of the larger, more passable gaps in the trees, while Glenn sat on a blanket in a small patch of sunlight close to the house, attending to the disembodied pieces of the guns he was cleaning with laser-like focus. Michonne sat on the other end of the porch, perched on an over turned milk crate and sharpening her katana.

"Morning," she said brightly without sparing him a glance.

"Why didn't nobody wake me?" Daryl asked as he shook out the jacket he'd bunched underneath his head in a makeshift pillow. Michonne raised her eyebrows in an exaggerated gesture of obviousness.

"You were up late," she answered. He could hear the subtle amusement in her reply, the veiled teasing that suggested she'd seen or heard part of his conversation with Beth the night before. Stifling a yawn Daryl rose and chose to ignore it, taking a wide conversational berth around her pointed words as he walked to the porch steps and leaned casually against the railing.

"Did I hear a car start?"

Michonne nodded, gamely switching topics though with a smirk that suggested she knew exactly what he was doing. "Rick and Abraham found an old rust bucket parked in that garage out back. They've been trying to get it going for an hour or so. It's been a while since Abraham's yelled something foul, so I'm thinking they've made some headway."

Daryl could only imagine the colorful, creative strings of obscenities the big man had yelled, wondering again how he could have slept through such a thing and mildly sorry he'd missed it. He gave a nod in response, his eyes glazing over the quiet clearing.

"She's inside with Carl and Judith."

Daryl shot her a look over his shoulder. "What?"  
"Beth. She's inside with Carl and Judith," Michonne repeated.

He snapped his head back around, instantly uncomfortable. He could practically feel the burn of her toothy grin like a brand against his back and he fought the urge to squirm. Unable to think of anything to say that didn't betray his already apparent obviousness, he simply grunted again before stepping out of the porch's shade, the wooden steps creaking under his weight as he hurried away from Michonne and the poorly muffled sounds of her chuckles. With each purposeful step he told himself to get a grip. Michonne didn't know anything.

Not that there was anything _to_ know.

He followed the familiar mechanical sounds of auto repair around the cabin and towards the ramshackle shed the previous owner had repurposed as a garage. Rick, sitting on a rusty workbench beside the truck, raised a hand over his eyes to shield against the glare of the sun and peered at Daryl as he approached. Daryl caught a glimpse of orange hair in the shadows behind him and then Abraham's voice rumbled from underneath the hood.

"Mornin' Sleeping Beauty."

"Original," Daryl barked back as he gave Rick a friendly slap on the shoulder, his eyes already wandering up and down the truck. "Shit. This thing's seen better days."

Christening it as a rust-bucket was being kind. The truck was a dump, a dilapidated two-seater Chevy that looked as if it were being held together by nothing more than the memories of its former glory days. A fine layer of dirt and grime coated the body of the truck while trails of rust bloomed in the red metal skin, creating large, gaping holes along the truck bed and passenger side door like moth-eaten holes in a sheet. The corroding silver bumper closely resembled a wrinkled sheet of aluminum foil, riddled as it was with dents and divots, and it sat on four bald tires Daryl thought would look more at home on a race track than traversing up and down country roads.

Less than impressed, he lazily kicked the front right tire. "Air ok?"

"That front one was flattened to the rim, but me and Ty got the spare on and the rest look fine," Rick answered, appraising the tires with his hands on his hips. "That was the easy part, to be honest. Getting her started has been…"

"…a real bitch," Abraham finished emphatically. He stepped around the hood with the truck's battery in one hand, wiping the other across his shirt and spreading black streaks across the dirty white fabric. "The alternator's rusted all to hell and the battery is dryer than a hobo's elbow in January. It makes a god awful sound when you turn it over, too, but once we get this battery fixed up it should run just fine."

"I don't mean to state the obvious but we ain't all gonna fit in this thing," Daryl said after a moment, wondering what the point of fixing up a junky truck that barely ran was in the first place.

"No, but it'll be useful for a run or two while we stay here," replied Rick, nodding out the garage door at the clearing. "As long as those fish keep biting we'll be alright food wise, and the cabin's better stocked than we could have ever hoped. But we've gotta get some stuff stockpiled for when we end up back on the road."

Abraham slipped past Daryl and Rick with the truck's battery still in hand. "I'm gonna go get some water," he explained over his shoulder as he walked towards the cabin. "Wouldn't want her crapping out on your run."

Daryl turned to Rick with raised eyebrows. "My run, huh?"

Rick gave him a half-smile. "If you don't mind. I was planning on taking a small group back to that convenience store Abraham and Rosita found not too from here, but we can walk that no problem. I was thinking you could take the truck and head out farther west—maybe 20 miles—and see what you find. Maybe take Carol or Michonne with you."

Daryl nodded his agreement to the plan—despite being volunteered for the job, he would rather be moving than not—and received a pat on his back in thanks. Then they turned and followed Abraham in silence, moving through the dry, wild grass at a leisurely pace.

Yesterday's heat had come back in full force and Daryl could already feel the hairline at the back of his neck dampening with sweat. However, when they turned the corner it appeared that almost everyone had journeyed outside, spread out across the clearing in pairs and smaller groups and not minding one bit about the temperature. Carol and Maggie were already cleaning the fish Tara and Eugene had managed to catch; Tyreese, Sasha, and Glenn stood in a small cluster around the gun parts having a relaxed conversation; Abraham had found Rosita near the clearing's edge, his battery-free hand resting possessively on her hip as she grinned saucily at whatever he was saying to her; Carl had Judith on a blanket playing peek-a-boo, her joyful stream of giggles bringing a wide smile to Rick's face as he watched from afar.

It had been weeks since Daryl had seen him do that. Since he had seen any one of them smile, really.

"Rick… what're we doin'?" He blurted out.

"What d'you mean?"

"Why're we talking about leaving? You know as well as I do there ain't nothin' in D.C. If there was we'd know it already. We're gonna walk all the way there and… then what? Turn around, go back to Georgia?"

The little cabin and its idyllic clearing had put food in everyone's mouths and a roof over their heads, the ever present knots of fear and exhaustion that lived inside them loosening enough for the occasional smile to slip through. For the first time in weeks everyone looked like people actually living, not just white-knuckling it. And it seemed to Daryl that leaving a place that could provide those things was both wasteful and incredibly stupid.

"Why don't we just stay here?" He continued, his eyes flitting back to Carl and Judith as she let out another hysterical giggle.

Rick sighed, his shoulders slumping forward and taking the smile with it. He shook his head. "This place… this place is good for a week or two. It'll give us all a chance to catch our breath. But it's not safe or big enough to house fifteen people long term. And despite what it feels like, winter isn't that far away. I just can't see us making it here once it gets cold. Can you?"

 _And what makes you think we'll find someplace better?_ Daryl wanted to ask. At least with the cabin they were guaranteed shelter and warmth in the cold months ahead. The last thing he wanted was to end up in some drafty old barn, huddled around a fire and sleeping in the dirt for the hope that they might find someplace someday.

Still, a part of Daryl knew he was right. The cabin was both isolated and incredibly exposed, hidden amongst trees that would also hide an oncoming attack of walkers or worse. Maybe if they'd found it sooner, if they had more time they could have done something with it and stayed. But they hadn't, and as much as he wished it were different, it was just another temporary thing he shouldn't bother getting attached to.

He chewed the inside of his lip and nodded, seeing too much truth in Rick's words to argue further. Turning to head inside the cabin he said, "I'll go get my stuff and me and Beth will head out as soon as Abraham gets that battery ready."

Rick's expressions were getting increasingly harder to read under the volume of his beard, but he appeared to frown at the idea. "Daryl… Beth's not doing so great."

Daryl paused halfway up the stairs, not liking the implication in his friend's statement _._ "Rick she ain't crazy."

"I never said she was. But don't you think it might be better for her to stick around here for a while and get some real rest?"

"She don't need rest."

Rick shot him a disbelieving half-smile. "We all need the rest."

"You don't get it man. Everything that happened to her… she's dealing with it the best she can. But she doesn't want to sit around. She doesn't need to. She just…" He trailed off, glancing back at the cabin stairs as bits of last night's conversation flashed through his mind, of the hollow sound of her voice and the emptiness in eyes usually ablaze with passion and fight. What ailed her wasn't going to go away if she stayed behind and took a nap or spent a lazy afternoon fishing for their dinner. She needed to be moving, to keep busy, and to give herself over to tasks where she couldn't dwell on the past. He turned back to Rick, this time refusing to back down. "She needs _this_."

An hour later he was pulling slowly away from the cabin, the bed loaded down with empty packs and supplies for the run. Daryl drove carefully, directing the rusty old truck through the overgrown forest drive at a speed he preferred never to go when in an operating vehicle.

Beth sat beside him looking at ease. The dark circles under her eyes looked less prominent and there was nothing sharp or bitter in the gaze she directed out the window at the passing trees. It appeared as though Maggie had been right and talking about what was bothering her had helped a little.

Still, their previous conversation and its subsequent embrace sat between them in the truck like a third wheel, obvious and awkward. He couldn't tell if they were trying to pretend like the night before hadn't happened, if she was embarrassed about the things she'd told him or worried he looked at her differently. He wanted to assure her that he didn't, to say something subtle that perfectly demonstrated his feelings and made her comfortable again. But what came out had nothing to do with either of those wishes.

"You talk to your sister?" He asked bluntly, wincing inwardly at how loud his voice sounded in the small space. He pulled out onto the main road, the truck whining and rumbling louder than his old bike as it picked up speed.

Beth looked over at him, her mouth screwed to the side. "Sort of. I told her goodbye, anyway."

Despite the casual façade she imparted, Daryl could hear the conflict in her voice and wondered if that meant her resolve to freeze out her sister was beginning to waver.

"She loves you," Daryl said, seeing no reason not to help her along. "She does."

Beth nodded. "I know that. And I _am_ trying to forgive her. She's just making it hard, so sure that once I _do_ forgive her I'll fall in line behind her like nothing's changed. Like she didn't do what she did, like either of us is even remotely the same."

Daryl didn't often invite in memories of his big brother, but he couldn't help but think of Merle and how he'd spent his entire life expecting him to fall in line and do what he said, pulling the big-brother-knows-best card long after he'd had the right to.

"Merle was the same way," he said. "Always bossing me around, calling me names and making my life hell if I didn't jump on board right away with whatever half-cocked scheme he'd cooked up."

"And you didn't hate him for that?"

Daryl shrugged. "He was a prick, but he was my brother. And I think that, in the end, he did the best he could."

Beth pondered that for a moment. Then, shooting him a puzzled smile that instantly made him wary, she said, "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, because I don't mean it badly. I'm just curious how you ended up following Merle around in the first place. You're smart, independent… and I can't picture you taking orders from anybody even if he was your brother. It just doesn't make sense to me."

He shrugged, basking in her compliments even as he brushed them off. "It was just one of those things, you know? Merle was finishing up his probation and moving out of this halfway house, and I'd just dropped out of school, so when he called me up and told me to come live with him I went. With my mom gone and my dad being the drunken sonofabitch that he was, there wasn't anyone keeping me at home. Being with him, following him around, doing what he wanted… it felt right at the time."

"But didn't you ever want to be something, or do something different?" Daryl shook his head and she frowned. "Even as a little kid?"

He pursed his lips to appear as if he was thinking about her questions, although the answer came to him immediately. He shook his head again, no.

"C'mon," she pushed. "Yes you did. Every little kid wants to be _something_. A firefighter, a soldier, an astronaut…"

"I wanted not to be my father or Merle," he said quickly. He glanced over at her, feeling exposed under her soft, wide-eyed gaze. "I wanted not to be exactly who I became."

She shook her head. "Daryl…"

"What'd you want to be? When you were a kid," he interrupted, genuinely curious even as he obviously and ungracefully attempted to sidestep the pep talk he could feel coming. He glued his eyes to the road as Beth's narrowed, knowing the resulting silence was her deciding whether or not to let it go.

"I wanted to teach music," she said finally, turning her gaze towards the bumpy road in front of them. "To elementary or maybe middle-school aged kids."

"You would've been a good teacher," Daryl said. He could picture it easily; Beth sitting behind a piano at the front of a classroom, her hair pulled back and softly curled, a delighted grin on her face as she directed a bunch of tone deaf, squirmy seven year olds into a chorus of singing angels. "I'm sorry you didn't get to."

She smiled sadly, gazing out her window as if she too could see her missed opportunity in the sunlight and trees that blurred past. It didn't last long, however, her wistful expression suddenly fading into a cheeky grin. "Well," she said, "I also wanted to run around fighting monsters with a redneck asshole, so who said dreams don't come true?"

Daryl smirked at her sideways, surprised both at the reemergence of her sass and his own words being parroted back at him. "Smartass," he muttered. Her laughter was like the trill of bells, sweet, soft, and warming him to his core.

Beth's question continued to niggle at him as he drove, the faces of Merle and his father flickering through his mind in a quick succession. He knew that there were plenty of things he _hadn't_ wanted as a kid, like his father's ritual beatings or his mother drinking herself sick in front of the hazy blue light of the TV every day. He hadn't wanted his brother to hang out with the group of skinny guys who smelled funny and called him 'Little Dix' while grabbing at their crotches, nor had he wanted his third grade teacher Miss Culling to report the cigarette burns on the back of his neck to the principal.

It was harder, though, to look back that far, to wade through all of the bad shit and rotten memories to the moments where he'd just been a kid. A little boy with hopes and dreams bigger than the life he'd been handed.

"I guess I wanted things back then," Daryl murmured softly, unsure of exactly why he was re-aiming the earlier bullet he'd managed to dodge successfully back at his chest. He looked back over at her, a strange jolt of fear rumbling beneath his skin. "I _still_ want things."

Beth fixed her eyes on him again, a small and encouraging smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "What kind of things?"

Up ahead there was a break in the trees and a massive, crumbling brick sign for a housing development came into view. Instead of answering Daryl pointed to it and slowed the truck, wincing slightly at the grinding sound the brakes made and effectively ending their conversation. He was actually grateful; their exchange had traveled to a dangerous place, and as much as he'd like to believe otherwise, he was woefully ill-equipped to navigate it.

It was probably for the best that she didn't know anyhow, he reasoned. He didn't exactly have the best track record with getting or keeping what it was that he wanted.

He carefully directed the truck through the entrance, focusing his wandering thoughts on their surroundings. The neighborhood's carefully winding streets were lined with upper middle class homes, all with antebellum style front porches and many-windowed fronts framed in brightly colored, tastefully coordinating shutters. It was expansive and yet, Daryl observed as they drove through it, still unfinished. At the far edge of the neighborhood he caught a glimpse of the bare bones of several large and unfinished houses, their wooden frames rotting away beside undisturbed mounds of dirt that now bloomed with scrub grass and weeds.

The air of abandonment and disuse that typically graced the places they searched through hung over the wide lawns and sun-faded homes. Once perfectly manicured greenery grew wild, trash and leaves mingled together in piles throughout the street, while fancy cars rusted away in their smoothly paved driveways alongside the occasional skeletal lump of scavenged human remains.

Once he'd driven through the place and found nothing to indicate the living had claimed any area of the neighborhood, Daryl parked the truck in front of a grey house with red shutters on the edge of a large cul-de-sac. There were at least eight houses peering vacantly down at the circular drive, and Daryl figured it would take them the better part of the afternoon to sort through each one. Silently they exited the truck and hovered together over the tailgate, collecting their packs and weapons with a business-like efficiency. Beth nodded confidently when Daryl asked if she was ready.

"Alright then," he said, resting his bow against his shoulder and looking up at the large grey house. "Let's do this."

* * *

"Ok, that's it," Beth said exasperatedly from her perch on the kitchen counter. "For the next apocalypse I'm demanding people stock up with better canned goods because this is just getting ridiculous."

Daryl glanced up to see her frowning at the two cans she held in each of her hands, the cabinet doors she had been rifling through open on either side of her head. Balancing on her knees, she turned her torso in his direction and shook the cans at him.

"Do you see this? More frickin' Lima beans!"

Daryl chuckled, turning back to face the bottom shelves of the pantry he'd squatted in front of. "Well, anything worth eating was eaten a long time ago," he said, shoving aside a half-empty bag of what might have been onions or potatoes but which had long passed the point of certifiable identification, and reached farther back into the dusty darkness.

"I know, I know," she muttered. "But why do they always have to be lima beans?" He heard the sound of the cans being tossed into the small, black duffel bag that sat unzipped on the counter beside her and then she jumped lightly to the floor. The bag and its contents rustled and clanked as she crossed the kitchen, and after dropping it down beside him with a soft thud she said with conviction, "I _hate_ lima beans."

"Considering that's all that's ever left, so did everyone else," Daryl said.

Behind him Beth began quietly opening and shutting drawers while he continued to sweep his hand across the backs of shelves in hopes of finding something long forgotten. Satisfaction bubbled up in his chest as his hands brushed across a familiar cylindrical shape hiding in the corner of the bottom shelf. His hand curled around the can and he pulled it free from its dark and dusty home, smiling to himself when he turned it over and caught a glimpse of its bright and cheerful label.

"Heads up!"

Beth turned and caught the can he tossed to her with both hands, turning it over with a curious frown. Her eyes widened with excitement and she exclaimed "Spaghettios!" with the kind of reverence preteen girls used to worship British boy bands.

"To wash down your Lima beans," Daryl said, feeling absurdly pleased with himself for finding something that put such an ecstatic smile on her face.

"I loved these when I was little," she laughed, rubbing off the sheen of dust on the can's face. Daryl leaned down to collect the mostly empty bag at his feet. As he began zipping it up, Beth reached out and tried to deposit the can inside.

"Naw," Daryl said, pushing her hand away. "You keep 'em." She shook her head adamantly and looked ready to toss it back at him. "I know you gave those M&M's you found to Carl. Be selfish for once and eat the damn Spaghettios, ok?"

"But…"

"Beth, please. For me."

He felt silly forcing the food on her, but it was suddenly incredibly important to him that she take something for herself, even if it was a simple can of preserved pasta. And, he thought abashedly, it wasn't like he had anything else to give her.

She carefully traced the cartoon spaghetti faces on the peeling label with her fingertip. Then, smiling shyly up at him, she slowly reached around to unzip her backpack and dropped the can inside, tilting her head in a "fine, you win" gesture. Satisfied, Daryl slung the duffel over his shoulder and without another word led them farther into the vacant house.

For the next three hours they rummaged through the stuffy, empty homes around the cul-de-sac, slowly filling the duffel bags with cans and unopened boxes of food. They spoke little, occasionally arguing over the usefulness and necessity of non-food related items—Beth was of the opinion that soap and razors were worth taking, Daryl disagreed—but for the most part worked beside one another in a companionable silence.

The sun had begun its descent towards the horizon when they finally called it a day. Despite the feeling of accomplishment rolling through him, Daryl could feel the strain of remaining alert for so long in every bone and muscle and was trying in vain to ignore the wave of weariness that was rapidly coursing through his body alongside it.

The truck was unsurprisingly right where they'd left it, camouflaged perfectly amidst the general death and decay of the neighborhood. Without a word they each tossed their full packs into the bed of the truck and climbed inside, the doors squealing horrendously as they pulled them close.

"Thanks for bringing me along," Beth said as Daryl fumbled underneath the visor for the key. He shot her a questioning look and she smiled softly back. "I know people have been giving you a hard time about it. About me."

"It's nothing," he mumbled, wanting to look anywhere but into her eyes and finding his body unwilling to cooperate.

"Daryl, it's not nothing. You treat me like I'm worth something, like I can do all of this. And I know this is probably stupid, but I _like_ doing all of this," she explained, gesturing with one hand towards the cul-de-sac around them. "With you, I mean."

 _With you, with you, with you._ The words beat in time to the rhythm of his heart, pounding away in his ears like a jackhammer while the palms he'd gripped around the steering wheel moistened. The corner of his mouth lifted and he nodded. "I like it too."

She smiled and looked down at her lap then, a hint of blush rising in her cheeks. Feeling absurdly pleased with himself, he reached for the key in the ignition and turned it.

With an ear splitting crack the engine backfired, the sound ripping through the air like a gunshot. Beside him Beth jumped in surprise and despite the potential consequences of the situation— and once his heart jumped down out of his throat—Daryl's first instinct was to laugh. That what startled them nowadays wasn't walkers or men with guns, but the unexpected sound of a crusty old engine. A half-formed smile crept onto his face, but one look at hers froze it in place.

She sat unbreathing and rigid as steel. There was a panicked, almost feral look in her widened eyes and goosebumps pimpled her suddenly ashen skin. Her knuckles glowed white at her side where she gripped her knife, already halfway unsheathed.

"Beth?"

Beth didn't answer him. Rumblings of worry began to slink up his spine and, not knowing what else to do, he reached forward, gently placing his hands on her arms and turned her towards him. Her torso turned smoothly under his touch but he could feel the overwrought tautness of her muscles shifting below the skin, hard and unforgiving as stone.

Daryl searched her eyes for a clue of what was wrong. She stared blankly back, seeming neither to recognize him nor be conscious of her current surroundings. It was plain to see that somehow she'd left the cab of the truck and gone somewhere he couldn't get to, a prisoner of her own mind or fear, or both.

He called her name two more times with no results. Although he knew he probably shouldn't, he began to shake her, desperate to force the foreign emptiness from her eyes. Her head jiggled limply on her neck and his stomach clenched with the memory of holding her in his arms after she'd been shot, limp as a rag doll. He told himself this time was different, she wasn't hurt or dying or dead.

But then why was there no light behind her eyes?

The quiet of the truck grew oppressive alongside the pit of fear lodged in his stomach. He let go of her arm and placed a hand on her cheek, his fingertips brushing over the shiny pink scar curling under her cheekbone.

"Beth," he said with a strained calm, looking nowhere else but her eyes. "Come back."

Finally something in her eyes shifted, the pupils shrinking like a refocusing camera lens with him as their focal point. He watched her begin to pull herself back from whatever far-away place she'd disappeared to little by little, blooms of color erupting on her cheeks and her eyes slowly brightening with clarity.

"It was just the engine backfiring," he explained when the panic finally disappeared from her face.

She closed her eyes and took a shaky breath, still reeling from whatever she thought she'd seen or heard but clearly embarrassed. He could feel the heat rising in her cheeks against his palm. "I… I thought… it just sounded like…"

"Hey, we're okay. Everything's okay."

"I'm sorry," Beth said, her voice creaking like a rusty hinge when she reopened her eyes.

"Don't be."

As silence stretched between them Daryl realized with a jolt that he still held her face in his hands. He'd never touched her face before. Her hand, definitely. Her arms, on occasion. But her face was different, a line of intimacy he'd barreled over without a second thought. A weak voice in the back of his mind protested that it was just like all of the other times before. That face touching was no different than the friendly, comforting hand holding they'd been doing since she'd woken up in the hospital.

But then he remembered the feel of her thumb trailing under his eye back at the warehouse in Hiawassee, remembered how his heart had jumped into his throat at the feel of her hand resting against his cheek. He'd tried to tell himself then that he felt nothing more for her than friendship, that even as his pulse quickened and his chest tightened under her kindly gaze and whisper light touch, she meant no more to him in that moment than Michonne or Maggie or Carol did.

But he was wrong then. And maybe it was because now she was backlit by the setting sun, each wispy tendril of hair framing her face lit up like an ethereal halo. It could have been the warmth of her skin under his palm or the subtle scent of her hair, or maybe because he was so close he could count the flecks of navy in her irises. At any rate, she was so beautiful and brave in all of her brokenness, and holding her face in his hands felt so wonderfully natural that he knew for certain he didn't want to be right.

He could feel time slowing, every second that passed stretching out in a gloriously hazy way that made it so there was nothing but her eyes on his and the breath they breathed, and when her lips parted it was easy to imagine himself leaning forward and catching that escaping breath with his own.

 _Damn romance novel indeed._

A loud thud and accompanying growl at the window behind him shattered the fragile moment and brought him crashing back to the present. He jerked his head around and came face to face with a skeletal, grey skinned walker pressing its decaying face up against the glass and pawing at the window. Before he could blink it was joined by three more, two squeezing in beside the first while one with long, matted hair leaned over the hood of the truck and scratched fruitlessly at the dirty windshield.

"Shit," he hissed, letting go of Beth and hurriedly turning the key in the ignition again. The engine choked and sputtered but wouldn't turn over and his heart sank. Snatching his bow off the floor of the truck, he was about to tell Beth to run when she leaned back across the seat in surprise at the large, beefy looking walker poking black fingers through the crack in her window. Two more joined the group on Daryl's side of the truck, the sound of their snarling and throaty growls a deadly, dissonant static. Exit strategies flashed through his mind and he weighed the risks of each while rapidly scanning the street in both directions.

His stomach dropped at the sight of twenty or so walkers flooding the street behind them, attracted by the sound of the backfiring engine. They ambled out of the trees surrounding the houses in brownish-grey smudges against the green, bleeding through side yards and down driveways towards the truck. They grew visibly more excited as their numbers increased, and Daryl knew if he and Beth waited any longer they'd be trapped in the truck for good.

In the passenger seat Beth's eyes flitted from walker to walker, but any fear that lingered there was offset by a steely look of determination that suggested she was ready for battle. When her eyes landed on him he jerked his head towards his window, opening his mouth to explain why his way was no good.

"Too many," she said before he could utter a word, slipping her arms through the straps of her backpack and angling her body towards the door. "This way."

Daryl didn't like her going first, especially considering the size of the walker chomping its lip-less mouth outside her window. Whole seconds would pass between the time she left the truck and he did, and they both knew from experience how much could go wrong in a couple of seconds.

But there were at least six walkers with all of their weight up against his door, pushing and scrambling over each other in their desire to get to the living, breathing happy-meal inside. It would be too difficult to push open the door with one hand and clear a path with just his knife or an arrow from his crossbow. Her way was easier with a clear, walker free path behind the closest house in sight.

Reluctantly, he nodded his agreement and slid out from under the wheel, keeping his eyes on hers as she steadied a hand on the door handle and gripped her knife tightly with the other.

"One," he began counting, steeling himself for the fight.

"Two…"

"Three!"

Beth opened the door with force, pushing her body weight into the door to knock the stiff, unsteady walker back far enough to allow her to slip out and take a step back. Daryl followed, his feet touching the pavement moments after hers, but it was long enough for the walker to set its sights on her, gurgling and snapping with outstretched arms. He raised his knife to kill it but Beth ran forward and sunk her blade into the walker's rotting skull, a spray of dark blood erupting from the wound as she pulled it free with a grunt.

The other walkers were already making their way around the truck, their growling and hissing blending together in a chorus that echoed loudly in his ears.

"Move, move!" Daryl yelled, placing his hand on her back and pushing her away from the encroaching herd.

His original plan had been to run straight to the nearest house and hide from the small herd in there. But as they sprinted toward it, he considered the odds of making it all night in a house surrounded by walkers who'd picked up on their scent and knew their location. There were enough of them now following their mad dash to safety that it wasn't very promising.

"Go around back!" He yelled after Beth. "We'll lose 'em on the next street!" She did as he directed, altering her path with ease.

They came upon the side yard which was nothing more than a narrow strip of overgrown weeds and grass sandwiched between the boxy yellow house on their right and a chest high chain-link fence that enclosed the neighboring yard. Beth pushed aside the dangling, unkempt branches that had spilled over the fence and slowed their pace slightly, sticking close to the side of the house. Under the brush of her fingers flakes of yellow paint separated from the house, dotting the ground like a cheerful trail of bread crumbs.

Around the corner he could see a tall wooden privacy fence bordering the backyard. Slats were broken or missing altogether in places and the far corner of the fence had collapsed, curving towards the ground in such a way that allowed Daryl a clear view of the house behind. It was large and still standing, and he figured they could easily hide in there until the herd passed. But their path to it was suddenly blocked by two walkers who had managed to retain the shape and stature of middle class, suburban dads staggering over the collapsed section of fence.

Instinctively Daryl raised his crossbow and fired an arrow that found a home in the eye socket of the leading walker. Without breaking her stride, Beth raised her knife and leapt over the fallen body, piercing the remaining walker's skull with a grunt of force as she tackled it to the ground.

If they weren't fleeing for their lives, Daryl wouldn't have been able to ignore how turned on the sight of her—muscles tensed, hair flying like some kind of warrior queen—taking down that walker made him. He reached down to help her up as she rolled off of the dead walker, and when she looked up at him, breathing hard and grinning, he couldn't help but smile back.

The sound of walkers shuffling after them grew louder as the herd began to trickle through the side yard. Daryl led them quickly away through the tall grass, over the dilapidated fence, and towards the front of the big white house.

Taking the steps two at a time he jumped up onto the porch, eyes glazing over the boarded up windows along the first floor, and tried the front door. He pulled and yanked but the door wouldn't give, and the beginnings of desperation flared up in his chest with the knowledge that they didn't have the tools or the time to pick the lock or break through one of the boarded up windows. He supposed they could make a run for it, but not only would they not make it back to camp before dark, he had no idea what kind of numbers the herd chasing them had broken off from and whether or not they were lurking close by.

Just as he was about to kick the door in frustration, Daryl's eyes landed on the garage door to their right. He hopped lightly over the porch railing with Beth close behind and jogged towards the windowless white door. There was no handle on the outside to lift it open, and Daryl sent up a half-hearted curse at rich people and their automatic everything before kneeling down at the base, his fingers scrabbling against the pock-marked cement of the driveway as he struggled to find something to grip onto.

"Daryl!" Beth warned, although she needn't have. He could hear the groans of the approaching walkers grow louder as they rounded the corner of the house, their overwhelming smell permeating the air and adding an unpleasant, textured tinge to the adrenaline-laced fear coursing through his veins.

Finally his fingers found a small space where chunks of the driveway had cracked and broken free under the repetitive opening and closing of the heavy door. Without a minute to waste he shoved his fingers into the narrow gap, hissing in pain as the cement scraped skin off the backs of his fingers, and began to lift. The door was much heavier than he anticipated and with his weak grip he struggled to get it even a few inches off of the ground. Beth appeared at his side and helped lift, pressing her palms against the door and pushing upwards until finally it opened far enough for them to slip inside.

Daryl gave it a quick once over, grateful to find the usual garage paraphernalia its only occupants. Then he turned and together he and Beth pulled the heavy door close on the approaching walkers with a thunderous slam that rattled his teeth and threw them both into darkness.


	16. You and Me

"You okay?" Daryl asked immediately. Beth couldn't see him in the darkness that was cut only by a thin sliver of light underneath the garage door, but she knew he was close.

"Yeah," she managed to reply between breaths, resting her hands on her hips. "You?"

"Always."

Outside, the walkers thumped carelessly on the door, their growls and groans a growing discord that made Beth uneasy. She wanted to get out of the garage and into the house, put some distance between them and the walkers who'd followed them all the way. For a moment, though, they both stood still, the sounds of their breathing filling the heavy darkness.

After a moment Daryl's low voice rumbled through the dark. "Stay close."

"Stay close?" Beth whispered with mild amusement. "Daryl I can't see a thing."

She heard the rustle of cloth and the clattering of the crossbow moving closer to her, and suddenly his hand was reaching out and touching her in the darkness. He fumbled, fingers first landing on the front of her hip and then the sleeve of her sweater before trailing down and grasping her hand. He turned and began slowly moving through the dark, blindly feeling his way towards the door that led into the rest of the house.

At the touch of his hand her mind travelled back to the truck. It had happened only moments ago, yet if she focused she could still feel the weight of his hand cradling her face and see the stormy look in his eyes that made her insides liquefy. The kind of look that made any word but _oh_ seem useless and irrelevant.

She was sure he'd been about to kiss her, or at least that he'd wanted to. And more than the joy and exhilarated fear that spiraled through her, what surprised her most was how relieved she'd felt. That when he'd been so close, everything still and suspended in a perfect moment—one she hadn't let herself admit she wanted to be perfect until it was happening—all she could manage to think was _finally_.

She was jolted from her daydreams and into the moment when they reached the back door that led into the house and Daryl slipped his hand from hers, the warmth from his hand lingering on her palm. The knob gave way under his touch with a hushed rattle, and with one finger on the trigger of his raised bow he pushed the door open. While he smacked his hand against the door and whistled loudly to draw any walkers hiding inside the house towards them, Beth quietly drew her knife from her belt and held it ready at her hip.

 _Now is not the time Beth,_ she chastised. _Get a grip._

They listened hard but not a sound could be heard from the depths of the house, and a minute later Beth followed Daryl up the smooth cement steps and into the kitchen, shutting and locking the door behind her with a soft click.

Together they moved quietly and efficiently through each room, their footsteps muffled by the layer of dust that coated everything like dirty, grey snow. Still wired from their chase, Beth half expected something to appear around every corner, but they found nothing more frightening than a couple of mice scurrying across the wooden floorboards and a long-legged spider poised delicately on the dining room wall.

At Daryl's request she waited at the bottom of the stairs while he checked the bedrooms on the second floor, following the sounds of his movements carefully until he appeared again with his crossbow dangling from one hand. He nodded once, indicating it was all clear and she felt a quiet sense of relief move through her body like a cool breeze.

"Place has been empty for a while," Daryl said, swiping a finger through the thick dust on the railing.

Beth agreed. The entire house smelled stuffy and stale from disuse, though it was obvious someone had lived there after the turn. Not only were the front windows of the house boarded shut behind wispy curtains the color of faded turquoise, but mussed sleeping bags laid out on the couches and floor space in the living room. Empty cans of food sat in a heap in the corner of the room and lined the mantel above the fireplace, organized by size and color and creating an oddly intriguing centerpiece. Beth tried not to dwell on the sadness of empty homes anymore, but as she looked around she couldn't help but wonder what had happened to make whoever had lived here abandon it without appearing to have taken anything with them.

Her eyes were drawn back to the windows as outside the walkers continued to beat on the garage door and bump carelessly into furniture on the front porch.

"Now what?" Beth whispered to Daryl.

He sighed and walked further into the living room, plopping down on the couch. "Now we wait."

* * *

Beth stared down at the book in her lap, the print swimming in and out of focus. She'd been trying to read the same page for fifteen minutes and not a single word had made the jump from the page to her brain, something she figured had less to do with her wandering mind and more to do with the over-dramatic, poorly written vampire novel she'd chosen.

Daryl lay sprawled out on the couch across from her having fallen asleep before she'd finished the third page of her book. With one foot planted firmly on the ground and his arm tossed carelessly over his eyes, his chest rose and fell in measured breaths. She glanced up from her fruitless attempt at reading and smiled at him, hoping he was dreaming of something good.

She was tired too, but more than that she felt restless. They should have returned to the cabin by now, and she couldn't help but think of how worried the others might be. She'd held out hope that the walkers would dissipate and they'd be able to sneak back to the truck before dark, but the last time she'd looked the yard and street in front of the house had been covered in them. Thinking this, she tossed the book aside and moved quietly towards the window to check again, peering through a crack in the boards.

Flat, dark clouds were creeping like a heavy blanket over the lilac colored sky and Beth hoped they meant rain. The walkers had stopped pounding on the garage door a while back, but still they lingered in the front lawn and driveway, shuffling aimlessly and swaying back and forth with their slack-jawed, empty faces. They'd dealt with herds before, but there were really too many for just her and Daryl to take on alone. A thousand things could go wrong with even the most solid of strategies. Mildly disappointed they'd be spending the night in the strange, dusty house, she stepped away from the window and turned back to her book, determined to make some headway before the light was gone.

She happened to glance down as she sat, unable to resist a grimace of disgust at the state of her clothing. The polo she remembered as being yellow was more or less a brownish-grey, now with fresh dark stains from the two walkers she'd taken down that afternoon, and the smell was less than pleasant. Normally it didn't bother her—everyone's clothing was as bloodstained and filthy as hers—but with the events in the truck playing in her head on a loop, she was suddenly desperate for something clean. She shot another quick glance at Daryl's sleeping form before tip-toeing towards the stairs and up into the shadowy hallway.

The doors were all open from Daryl's sweep and it didn't take her long to find one with potential, stepping into a pale blue room with matching white furniture positioned throughout the small space. An average sized bed sat in the middle of the wall to her right with striped blue and white sheets and a smoky blue coverlet that lay crookedly over the mattress. Wooden letters in pastel shades of blue and green spelled out Kayley above the headboard.

 _Sorry to barge in like this Kayley,_ Beth thought as she headed for the tall white dresser across from the foot of the bed, _but I could really use a new shirt._

A large filigreed mirror with peeling white paint hung above the dresser, and dozens of snapshots and handwritten notes covered the glass along the perimeter. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror but looked quickly away, glancing down at the dust covered objects on the dresser instead. A string of fake pearls, a blue plastic hair clip, shaped like a butterfly. A hair comb missing two teeth tangled in a pair of purple earbuds. A ticket stub to a romantic comedy called "When We Were Young" at the Silver Screen Cinema. They were items of no importance that told an important story about the girl they had once belonged to. Tiny pieces of her puzzle.

Beth briefly wondered what strangers traipsing through her bedroom back at the farm would think of her based on the photos and things she'd left behind before remembering that there was nothing left to traipse through. No farm, no bedroom. No pieces of the old Beth Greene left to marvel over, insignificant or otherwise.

Eager to shake off the clammy hands of sadness that threatened to choke the breath from her body, Beth redirected her focus on the photos and pieces of paper that lined the mirror, squinting in the rapidly fading light to make them out.

Most of the photos were silly snapshots taken at parties or on vacations, the people in them all happy, relaxed, or tan, while the papers were a variety of handwritten quotes, poems, and lyrics she recognized from love songs. There was a silly group selfie featuring three girls with pouted lips and crossed eyes beside a Pablo Neruda sonnet, an older, wallet sized photo of three blonde children tucked up in the corner with a snippet of an Avett Brothers song scrawled on a pink sticky note below it.

The photo that hung at eye level caught Beth's attention specifically, and she plucked the picture free from the mirror, bringing it closer to her face. The edges of the photo were soft and worn as if it had been held often, and the bottom right corner was beginning to peel away from the paper backing. It featured a laughing young woman with blonde hair—who Beth assumed was Kayley—and a man, maybe her boyfriend or fiancée, sitting outside on the grass. His arms were wrapped around her middle and he was grinning into her hair, his eyes closed. On the back in black ink it read:

" _With you I am not afraid, and in your arms I am home." -June 13_ _th_ _, 2009_

She felt a brief pang of guilt as she turned it back over to stare at their faces, feeling as if she were intruding on a private moment. So much happiness had been captured in that single shutter click, so much love that it made her heart hurt with a wanting that surprised her.

Again her mind drifted to Daryl. He'd been there for her, had been privy to her most mortifying mistakes and shameful secrets and yet continued to bring light into the darkest parts of her. A man of few words he might have been, but behind his sometimes maddening silences and gruff disposition, she had never had another person be so gentle with her, so loyal to not just the person she was but the person she wanted to be. A part of her felt foolish entertaining the idea of falling for Daryl Dixon, especially in light of their current situation and the continual bleak circumstances of the world they lived in. But when she thought about him, allowed herself to hope for the mere possibility of their togetherness… it should have scared her. But it didn't. It felt like a long time coming.

She didn't hear Daryl approach, so lost was she in her own thoughts, but suddenly he was standing in the doorway, shining a flashlight into her face looking slightly frazzled.

"Didn't you hear me calling you?" He asked as he clicked off the flashlight and dropped his bow to his side.

Beth met his eyes and felt a strange mixture of guilt and appreciation at the worry she saw him trying to hide there. She shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I got distracted."

Outside twilight had fallen, filtering through the gaps in the curtains on the window and throwing stripes of pale, violet colored light across Daryl's face. He stepped out of the hall, dropping her backpack just inside the door and walked behind her, casting a casual glance around the room. "What're you doing in here anyway?"

Beth smiled sheepishly and pulled at the collar of her polo. "I was looking for a new shirt. This one's seen better days."

Daryl nodded as he moved quietly through the room, picking up random objects and putting them back down in the careless way he had with knickknacks and items of useless sentimental value. He swiped a glittery glass paperweight off the desk by the window and tossed it into the air a couple of times before moving back towards her and sitting at the foot of the bed. "Find anything good?"

She looked back at the photo of the young man and woman in her hands, running her fingertips gently over their laughing faces. "I didn't actually get that far."

Daryl frowned at her curiously and she handed over the photo in explanation. Beth watched him examine it, his head bent down and his hair shielding his face like a curtain. She wished she could get to that bravery she'd unleashed back on the warehouse fire escape so that she could reach out and brush the shaggy dark hair out of his eyes and tuck it behind his ear. After what had almost happened in the truck, she wasn't so sure he'd mind. Instead she let herself picture it, imagining how she'd let her hand linger on his cheek, wondering what his lips would feel like under the brush of her thumb.

"Do you miss 'em?" Daryl asked suddenly, breaking her out of her reverie. He held out the photo and she avoided his gaze as she took it with furiously burning cheeks, sure that if their eyes met he'd be able to see exactly what she'd been thinking. She turned back to face the mirror, cradling the photo in her hands.

"Who?"

"Zach. Jimmy."

She wasn't expecting that. Their names sounded strange coming out of Daryl's mouth, and almost meaningless, like the names of strangers mentioned in passing. The heat in her cheeks worsened, this time with shame. She set the photo down on the dresser and met Daryl's gaze in the mirror.

"Truth?" Daryl's reflection nodded. She took a couple step backs until she felt the foot of the bed and sat down beside him, staring straight ahead. "Yes and no."

It felt painfully wrong to say anything but yes out loud. When people you loved died you were supposed to miss them, you were supposed to remember them, the things they said and did or the quirks that drove you crazy. But of all the people she had lost, Zach and Jimmy fell somewhere towards the bottom of the list in terms of importance, their faces and mannerisms blurring with each passing day until she had a hard time remembering anything about them.

Zach had been cute and funny, she supposed, his bravery admirable and his conversation refreshing. But it was almost frightening thinking about how much more he had wanted from her than she would have ever been able to give him.

And Jimmy. Poor, sweet Jimmy. He had been her first real boyfriend, everything about their relationship so green and childish that it made her want to laugh with embarrassment.

Beside her Daryl remained quiet, waiting for her to explain.

"I mean, of course I miss them. They were important people at different points in my life. It's just… I don't _miss_ them. You know?"

Daryl shot her quizzical frown, his eyebrows knitting together over eyes filled with amusement at her muddled explanation. Beth sighed.

"Zach was a mistake from the beginning," she tried again. "I knew that, but I did it anyway because I was lonely and bored of having only taking care of Judy to look forward to every day. He was different and _convenient_ … as horrible as that sounds. I didn't love him or anything. And Jimmy, well…" She shrugged a little sadly. "Jimmy and I were just kids who were only still together because the world had ended and we didn't know what else to do."

Beth paused, expecting to feel strange or embarrassed at exposing those truths to Daryl, but like the night before all she felt was lighter. She gazed up at the collage of quotes, words of love and longing written by men and women long dead but that still had the power to inspire, to remind her of what love and wanting and passion were supposed to feel like, and continued.

"I miss them because they should still be here. Because they were both good boys who didn't deserve the suffering or the deaths this life gave them." Beth tore her gaze from Daryl's reflection and looked at him beside her, unsure if her heart had begun to pound before or after he returned her gaze, drowning her in dark blue. "I don't miss them because I want to be with them."

She thought of the young woman in the photo and the words of love she had surrounded herself with. Of the one man who'd made her feel safe, who had become the only kind of home she needed.

"Earlier you said you wanted things," Beth said in a hushed voice, swallowing down the sudden lump in her throat. Daryl nodded once, his gaze shifting to his lap. She licked her lips nervously, a knot of apprehension growing in her stomach as her heart continued to thud like a kick drum inside her chest.

 _Now or never Beth._

"Am… am I one of those things you want?"

Daryl said nothing and in the silence Beth felt like an idiot. A vain, selfish, stupid idiot. What if she'd read the signals wrong? What if she'd over-thought each touch and conversation, building them up with emotions and feelings that he didn't actually feel? She didn't think she could bear it if she was wrong, if he didn't think of her as anything other than a friend. But, she reasoned, to not ask would be an entirely different form of idiocy because then she'd never know.

"Because if you do," she continued, "you should know that I want the same thing. You… you and me."

Never before had quiet been so overwhelming; she thought she could hear the blood rushing through her veins and the sound of disturbed dust settling back down into its silty, grey drifts all around them. Daryl slowly turned his head, freezing her in place with his intense blue stare.

 _Please don't run from me,_ she thought anxiously, her chest tightening with the possibility she hadn't considered before. _Please don't run from me._

Then, without a word, Daryl lifted a hand towards her face. His touch was light and hesitant and she sat perfectly still, afraid if she so much as blinked his skittishness would get the better of him and the fragile spell weaving itself around them would break, the moment and all future ones like it disappearing someplace she'd never be able to retrieve them from. And she realized as he leaned closer and her eyes fluttered shut that would be a punishment worse than anything this life could concoct.

At first his kiss was as tentative as the hand resting against her cheek, almost as if he expected her to change her mind or pull away in disgust. She lifted a hand to his face in response and it seemed to assure him. His other hand moved to her waist and he pressed his lips more purposefully against hers in a kiss that had a sudden kaleidoscope of color swirling and dancing behind her closed eyelids. A flush danced over her skin like fire as she kissed him back, his touch blasting away every cold, hard place inside of her until there was nothing left but warmth and buoyant light.

There was no angry big sister or friends rotting in the ground, no Grady Memorial or Gorman or Dawn. There weren't flashbacks or nightmares she couldn't escape. There was only him and her in this sky colored room. And it felt so exactly right, like every terrifying, sad, and horrible thing that had happened from the moment they'd come into one another's lives had been leading them here.

Dizzy from emotion and lack of oxygen, Beth pulled away first, her first coherent thought being that kissing Zach and Jimmy had never _once_ felt like that. Daryl looked as dazed as she felt, the inscrutable mask he often wore having slipped off sometime after she'd closed her eyes.

And yet still she was afraid that he'd run. It wasn't a ridiculous concern; she could see in his eyes how desperately that instinctual urge to flee from intimacy called to him. He was so wary and so easily wounded, like a dog that's been kicked so much it bites any hand that reaches out, even if all that hand wants to do is love it. She forgot sometimes that no matter how he'd softened, no matter how he'd grown, there would always be a bruised part of him underneath the surface, a throbbing purple ache that served as a constant reminder of the pain he had endured and the feelings of worthlessness he'd spent a lifetime believing he deserved.

Beth's hand slid from the curve of his jaw to her lap, feeling vulnerable and shy and more like herself than she'd felt in a long time. She decided to let him run if that's what he needed, if it meant that in the end he'd come back.

His eyes dropped from hers for a moment and she braced herself for his departure, no doubt hanging on the ends of a mumbled excuse. But he only smiled, one corner of his mouth slowly rising in a bashful and pleased kind of half-smile that made butterflies beat their wings furiously in her stomach and her hands itch with the desire to press that momentary smile to her lips. However, far too sure that would actually send him running, she did the only other thing she could think of to do and smiled back.

* * *

They ended up on the floor. No verbal suggestion was made on either of their parts to make the move, but they ended up there just the same, leaning back against the side of the bed and watching through the window as darkness fell.

A rather violent storm had blown in with the flat, dark clouds from earlier in the evening and they sat side by side, watching the ragged white lines flit across the sky and the silhouettes of the trees pitch and sway like participants in some kind of ritual dance. The rain pounded against the roof and pelted the window like tiny pebbles, lending a whispered rumble to the quiet of the room.

Beth had always been a fan of temperamental weather, the deafening roar of the wind and bone rattling cracks of thunder ricocheting across the sky. She loved the smell of the rain and how the very air crackled with electricity, a palpable energy that she could feel in the strands of her hair and cradle in her palm like an egg. That such danger and magnificent beauty could live together in a passionate display was not only delightful and attractive to her, but also comforting, something about the world that had not changed or diminished even though seemingly everything else had.

Back on the farm she'd watched countless storms from the cover of the porch, wrapped in a blanket and curled up on a rocking chair. The contrast of wet, grey world in front of her against the warm yellow light from inside the house filtering through the windows had been like a bubble of peace she could exist in for however long the storm thundered on. It had always been a solitary activity, sacred alone time with her thoughts. She didn't mind having a companion for this particular storm, however, stealing glances at Daryl in-between the brilliant flashes of lightning.

He was quiet as ever, wearing the serious expression he always wore and occasionally rubbing his chin absentmindedly as he watched the storm beside her. So normal did he appear that if it weren't for the fact that she could still feel the burn of his hand where it had grasped her waist or taste him on her lips she'd be forced to come to the conclusion that she'd made up the entire kiss in her head. She desperately wanted to crack open his skull like a book and read his mind, to plant herself amidst the scrolling thoughts and feelings so she could for one measly minute know what he was thinking.

Even more than that she wanted to crawl into his lap and kiss him again. Until her lips were raw and her tongue was tired, until every ounce of strength in her body was gone and the simmering ache he'd ignited in her chest the moment his lips touched hers diminished so she could think straight again.

"Wish we hadn't put the bag of food in the back of the truck," Daryl said suddenly, the sound of his voice a deep, pleasant rumble through the shadows. "I could really go for some canned… anything."

It took Beth a moment to comprehend what he'd said, so lost was she in thinking of ways to get him to kiss her again. She looked at him and smiled sympathetically before remembering there was one can that wasn't in the truck at all but rather just across the room, waiting patiently in the depths of her bag to be opened and eaten. Without a word she stood and scampered over to her bag, still lying by the door where Daryl had dropped it and began to dig through it for the Spaghettios he'd insisted she keep for herself. Her fingers also closed around the silver spoon she kept hidden away in the side pocket, a zip of silver-white light shining across the tiny, concave impression of the capitol building. She didn't suppose the silver souvenir she'd pocketed from the country club-turned-graveyard was ever intended to be used as a tool for eating, but she figured—like everything in this world—it would just have to adjust.

She presented both with a flourish as she plopped back down beside Daryl, delighting again in the warmth of his body where it touched hers and the pleasurable twist the contact gave her in the pit of her stomach.

"Ta da!"

Daryl immediately shook his head, another flash of lightening illuminating his soft scowl. "I already told you. That's for you."

"Nonsense," she said dismissively as she braced it between her knees and began to work the top open with her knife, grimacing at the squeal of metal on metal. "I'm hungry, you're hungry. It's all the food we've got. And besides, it'll taste better if I share it with you."

Daryl crossed his arms over his chest in a seemingly stubborn gesture of defiance as she worked, apparently not finding her attempts at cute logic either cute or logical. Gently she pried open the thin metal top, taking care not to slice a finger on the sharp and ragged edges and took a peek at the goopy heap of circular noodles inside. Admittedly, it didn't look as appetizing as she remembered.

"Daryl, please," she begged with what she hoped was an enticing smile. He didn't budge. "Look, if I take the first bite will that make you happier?"

Daryl only raised his eyebrows in response. She rolled her eyes and took a heaping spoonful, realizing as she chewed and swallowed the mushy mixture that smelled overpoweringly of fake tomatoes how hungry she actually was. Her stomach grumbled accordingly and she had to fiercely ignore the primal, survival-at-all-costs urge of her body to knock back the entire can in one sloppy gulp. She tried to pass him the can, and when he refused to reach for it she waved it as obnoxiously as she could in front of his face until finally he snatched it out of her hands.

"You're a pain in the ass," he grumbled, poking at the food with the spoon.

Beth only grinned. She watched him take a bite—a significantly smaller spoonful than hers, but she decided not to push it—feeling dismayed at the look of revulsion that glazed over his features as he swallowed.

"This tastes like horseshit," he said, glaring down at the jubilant pasta O's on the wrapper as if they could see how offensive their unpleasant taste was to him.

She laughed, surprised. "Are you kidding me? Daryl, you regularly eat raw squirrel guts. How could this possibly taste worse?"

"Because squirrel guts don't taste like a metal can shit watery tomato mush."

"Oh come on," she said, talking through another mouthful. "Now you're just being gross." She pushed the can back into his hands insistently.

Daryl let a spoonful of the slick pasta slide off of the spoon gloop back into the can. "Mark my words," he said, "if you make me eat this from now on I'm gonna make sure you eat nothing but god damn lima beans until they're growing outta your ears."

Beth rolled her eyes. "Quit whining and eat your Spaghettios."

They split the rest of the can in silence, Daryl's grimaced swallows making her burst out laughing each time. It emptied faster than her hungry belly would have liked. At Daryl's silent insistence she scraped up the last morsels of spaghetti, thinking as she did so that a spoon clanking against the bottom of a tin can was one of the more unpleasant and heartbreaking sounds of their reality. Still it was enough to tide her over, and she felt satisfied as she set the empty can down beside her with the spoon inside of it. Then, in a surge of contentment, she leaned her head on his shoulder and watched the raging storm continue its tirade across the dark sky.

"They're probably worried about us," she said softly into the darkness, fighting back the yawn tickling the back of her throat as she thought of their family back at the cabin.

"We'll see them tomorrow."

A brief chill of panic cascaded up her spine at the thought. They _would_ see them tomorrow. She was suddenly worried that whatever was happening between them would be stifled by the constant presence of every member of their family, that nothing like today, nothing like that kiss would ever happen again.

"I really liked… today," she whispered sluggishly, sighing as the heaviness of sleep descended upon her and pulled her eyelids close, making it difficult to find the words she really wanted to say. Words like _I like you and this and us and am nowhere near ready to say goodbye to it yet so don't let them ruin it ok?_ "I want you to know that."

"Today was a good day," he agreed.

She was distantly aware of his hand closing around hers and the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathed. The gesture reassured her, made her feel warm and safe, and that single thought repeated blissfully in her head as she let sleep pull her under. Today was a good day, today was a good day.

 _Today was a good day._

* * *

 **About time they finally kiss.  
**

 **Less than a month until Season 6 starts back up! I'm actually only like 96% excited for it because I think bad things are going to happen to Daryl, and we all know what's going to happen to Glenn. Unless they have _that_ happen to Daryl... which wouldn't surprise me in the slightest but also break my heart. :( It's times like these I ask myself why my favorite TV show can't be something light and fluffy and with zero chance of any of my favorite characters dying in a heartbreaking, bloody, violent disaster. **

**Review please! Let me know what you think so far.**

 **-kaitiebee**


	17. A Stranger's Truth

Despite its ferocity the world finished throwing its tantrum just in time for dawn to begin staking its watercolor claim over the black sky. Daryl, who sat awake through it all staring out the window, barely noticed the brilliant display staring back at him, willingly lost instead inside an hours-old memory.

" _I want the same thing. You… you and me."_

She'd said it, but more than that she'd _meant_ it. And because of that he'd let go of all the reasons he wouldn't or shouldn't where Beth was concerned and kissed her.

Every second played in his head on a loop. The feel of her under his hands, the smile that crept across her face when she pulled away, the firework show of happiness bursting in his chest... all of it filled him to the brim with a euphoric joy he didn't think it was possible to describe. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so good about anything.

And still amidst every drop of happiness and contentment coursing through his veins there was doubt. It grew in his mind like a cancer, slowly reducing that joy to a toxic fog of confusion and whispering nasty things as the night wore on. That it was just a fluke born from adrenaline and exhaustion and she would regret it in the morning; that they had crossed a line they'd never be able to come back from; that this was neither who he was nor who he got to be.

He wondered if all people felt this way when they got whatever it was that they wanted; like they were simultaneously suffocating under the weight of their own happiness and paralyzed by the fear of watching that happiness disappear like a wisp of smoke.

Flecks of dust caught in the rays of buttery light that streamed in through the gaps in the curtains and Daryl watched them float, mesmerized by their aimless wanderings and their subtle sparkle. Beth was still sleeping, her head pillowed on his leg and her hair spilling across his lap, wild and soft as corn silk. The beams that touched her face lent an almost translucent look to her eyelids and dramatized the soft spikes of the lashes resting against her cheeks. It was a sight to behold, but the sharper the light became the more she began to stir and Daryl knew it was only a matter of time until she woke up. He didn't know what to do when she did, what the right thing was to say. Would she want him to kiss her again? He wanted to, but was he supposed to?

He'd never been very good at this, never bothered to try and understand the rules of dating because he hadn't cared enough about any of the women he'd chosen. The few there had been were merely pit stops that provided a warm body when he needed to prove his manhood to Merle or a warm bed when there wasn't enough money between them for a motel room in whatever backwater town they found themselves in. And those women had never expected anything from him either because he was the kind of guy _they_ always chose. Distant, withdrawn, in-town-for-the-night types that called them the wrong name in bed and left before the sun rose, wiping their already blurry faces from his mind as easily as the pool hall perfume of smoke and stale beer he'd rubbed off on their skin.

But Beth was different. Beth was not a pit stop or a conquest or a necessary evil. And despite the fact that he could hear Merle's chortle threaded through every doubtful thought bouncing around inside his head, he wanted desperately to prove that to the both of them.

Suddenly her eyelids fluttered open, awake at last. She sat up slowly, squinting in the sunlight and gave him a shy, sleepy smile. The cheek she'd been laying on was red, a crease from his pant leg running across it like a roadway on a map. Daryl balled his hands into fists to keep from reaching out and tracing the line with his fingertips, staring intently at his lap as she ran a hand through the tangles of hair hanging around her face and rubbed the remnants of sleep from her eyes.

An undeniable charge hung in the silence around them, buzzing in his ears and pressing down on his chest like a lead vest. It made even the desire to say good morning an impossible feat.

"Storm stopped," Beth said finally in a husky, full-of-sleep voice that made something at his core tighten sharply.

 _Weather,_ he thought nodding at his lap. Weather was safe. He could talk about the weather. "Couple of hours ago."

"Did you sleep at all?"

"I'll sleep when we get back," he answered, although they both knew that was as unlikely as snow falling from the bright morning sky. He pushed himself off of the worn carpet and offered his hand out to her. A surprised half-smile graced her lips and she slid her palm against his, letting herself be helped up.

Instantly he realized he'd made a mistake. He'd pulled her so close that there was hardly room enough for their mingled breaths let alone respectable thoughts. She peered up at him with those big blue eyes that saw right through him and he felt everything start to go topsy-turvy, the very ground beneath his feet going full-tilt like it had the night before. Only this time he didn't lean forward. With a tight swallow he took a step away, trying not to notice the disappointment that flared up in her eyes as he nodded towards the door.

"We better get moving," he said. He waited for her to nod and headed for the door, leading the way through the quiet house and pretending the weight he felt pressing down on his shoulders was neither guilt nor disappointment.

They stepped outside underneath the pale, rain washed sky, each suppressing a shiver at the damp chill that the rain had left behind. Despite the damage the storm had inflicted in the form of tossed branches the size of mini-vans, dangling shutters, and missing shingles, the world had that freshly-scrubbed look about it and smelled sharp and green. Daryl let a deep breath fill his lungs, feeling the anxiousness he'd brought upon himself begin to alleviate in the cool, open air.

In silence they walked side by side around the house, cutting through several backyards until the tall grass spat them out on the cul-de-sac they'd ransacked the day before. The truck was right where they left it, now free of walkers and leaning against the curb in front of the big grey house with the red shutters. Immediately Daryl leaned over the side and checked on the bags in the truck bed which, other than being soaked through, remained full and untouched by either man or beast.

He realized as he slid under the wheel and the doors slammed shut that he was now trapped inside a much smaller, much more confined space with Beth than he had been inside of the house. For the next twenty minutes there would literally be nowhere to go, nothing to do but suffer under the feelings that told him to pull her as close as possible warring with the ones that warned him to keep his distance.

Before he turned the key he spared a glance at her face, unsurprised to find her already looking at him. He knew without a doubt that she was also thinking of twelve hours earlier and every fortunate thing that had followed that moment of misfortune. But unlike the night before the key turned smoothly and the engine started up without a fuss. She smiled a close-lipped smile at him and he pulled quickly out onto the deserted street, driving away before the truck changed its mind and stranded them in some other corner of suburban hell.

The drive back seemed to take less time, landmarks he'd locked away in his memory appearing faster than he expected as they blurred by in reverse succession. Beside him Beth was quiet, absently picking at her cuticles and staring out the window. A dozen things he could say to cut the tension came to mind but he talked himself out of saying each one, feeling their inadequacy would only make it more obvious that he had no idea what the hell he was doing.

The pine boughs caressed the windshield as he directed the truck carefully onto the hidden drive, needles scratching against the side of the truck in a soft, whispery static. They were about halfway to the cabin when Beth suddenly leaned across the seat, planting a kiss on his jaw so quickly his responding flinch came about like a dramatic afterthought. She merely shrugged a little sadly when his eyes flashed to hers.

"Just in case," she whispered, sounding resigned. Daryl wanted to tell her that there was no need for that. That despite the war of reservations and self-doubt inside his head, he still wanted the same things she did. He would make sure the night before wasn't something that never happened again, if it was the last thing he ever did. But he blinked and the moment was gone, taking all of his brave words with it. Beth slid back to her spot by the window and stared straight ahead as the light brightened and the cabin came into view.

He was mildly surprised to see the majority of the group standing in a cluster in front of the porch steps, their heads turning in unison rather sharply as the truck bumped over the uneven ground and into view. Variations of concern repeated on their faces in the dips of furrowed brows and the corners of tightly clenched mouths.

Beth opened her door and slid smoothly to the ground as soon as Daryl wrenched the finicky gear shift into park. For a moment he could only watch her go, spine straight and hair swishing across her back with each step. She was greeted under a flurry of patting and squeezing hands and relieved smiles, and he managed to see Judith squirming away from her brother and grinning as Beth closed her arms around her before the group swept her up entirely into its center.

She had no idea that she was doing the same thing to him, he thought as he exited the truck, becoming the center of his entire world without even trying.

He leaned over the side and fished the wet canvas bags out of the truck bed, glancing up in time to see Rick walking swiftly towards him.

"We expected you back last night," Rick said by way of greeting, taking a duffel bag from Daryl with one hand and giving him a welcoming slap on the back with the other. "Maggie's been losin' her mind. You run into trouble out there?"

Daryl glanced back across the yard where Beth stood, catching glimpses of her blonde hair behind the huddle that had formed around her. When they parted he caught her eyes peering at him over Judith's head and she smiled tentatively at him. A secret, sweet smile he felt all the way to his toes.

"Daryl?" Rick asked, bringing him back to the present. Daryl shook his head, the corner of his mouth lifting in an almost-smile.

"Naw, man. No trouble at all."

"Well, we did," said Rick. Daryl frowned at him, the hold of Beth's smile disappearing in the seriousness of his friend's tone. Rick stopped walking and nodded his head in the direction of the garage. "We have a visitor."

* * *

Their visitor, whom Rick had put under surveillance immediately after he'd approached them at dawn, sat in the middle of the garage floor on top of an old oil stain, his arms tied behind his back and his chin tucked into his chest. He jerked his head up when the door slid open, wincing in the bright light that flooded the small space.

He looked well-fed and remarkably clean, his close cropped hair and clean shaven face so foreign to any man Daryl had seen in the past three years it was like looking at an alien. His clothes appeared to be in excellent condition as well without a single hole or fraying hem to be seen.

"Aaron," said Rick roughly as he kneeled down in front of him with a small cup of water, "this is Daryl. Daryl, meet Aaron."

The man drank first, large, sloppy gulps that sent water trickling down his chin and dampened the front of his blue plaid shirt. When he was finished he looked up at Daryl and nodded.

"Hello Daryl," he said pleasantly, his voice a warm and even timbre. "It's nice to meet you."

The mask of suspicious indifference Daryl wore didn't slip though he was surprised at the honest and friendly air of a man who had been tied up and thrown in a glorified shed. He shifted his gaze to Rick who only nodded once, confirming its genuineness.

"Thank you for the water," Aaron said to Rick, though when he addressed him there was a detectable strain, a brittleness to his words that told Daryl the man's patience was wearing thin.

"I'd like you to tell Daryl what you told the rest of us," he said in response, the growl in his low voice turning the politely worded request into a demand.

Aaron's shoulders slumped forward with a tired sigh but he nodded, fixing his eyes back up at Daryl. "I'm here today because not far from this place is a community, a community that I've been a member of since everything fell apart. We have food, protection, houses…" He glanced back at Rick still squatting beside him and asked, "Did you show him the pictures?"

Rick's head tilted to the side, a seemingly harmless gesture that Daryl knew from experience was anything but. Without breaking eye contact he slowly straightened from his crouch, his stony expression unwavering as he picked up a stack of photographs from the work table and passed them to Daryl.

"Our walls surround the entire perimeter of our community," Aaron continued as Daryl flipped quickly through the grainy, black and white pictures, pausing only once at one that featured the wall to which he was referring. It was a massive structure that appeared to be made of a corrugated metal, a dozen heavy supports that sliced across the photo paper like hatch marks butting up against it. "15 feet high, 12 feet wide panels of pure steel, supported from the inside by wooden beams and built entirely by the hands of our people. Nothing alive or dead gets through those walls without our say so. I know you look at it and just see a wall… but it's truly a magnificent accomplishment."

"If it's so fucking great why ain't you behind it?" Daryl asked, annoyed by the glowing pride in the man's voice. He'd helped build and protect something similar once and had been forced to watch a tank blow massive, smoking holes into it, destroying whatever faith he'd had in the idea of the guaranteed safety of a wall.

Slightly cowed, Aaron said, "Nowadays everything is about resources and how much you have. Food, water, ammo, shelter… and people. People truly have become our most valuable resource."

"That ain't what I asked."

"My job is to go out and bring people back," Aaron explained. "To convince you to join us. Our community is a wonderful place. A safe place. But it needs people to keep it that way, to strengthen it even."

Daryl stared at the man, unsure of what to think. Every fiber of his being told him what he said was a carefully planned trap to at best steal from them. After Woodbury and Terminus he had no more faith in the idea of community than he did in walls or fences, the very word's definition long ago having transformed into a dangerous concept that spelled doom for any who were stupid enough to believe in it. But there was something in Aaron's guileless expression that made Daryl pause. He didn't just want them to believe in the words he spouted but genuinely believed in them himself.

"I approached your group because I believe that you're all good people. The kind of people we want on our side."

Daryl frowned. "You don't know a thing about us."

From across the room Rick, having leaned against a splintering work table and crossed his arms tightly across his chest began to shake his head, a vicious half-smile peeking out from beneath his beard. "He's been watching us."

Daryl felt as if he'd accidentally swallowed a chicken bone, the sharp discomfort travelling down his throat and burrowing like a seed in his chest. The thought of this man—this clearly spoiled, soft, cowardly man—lurking in the shadows and watching them struggle to survive, observing their every move, listening in on their private conversations to judge their worth pushed him over the edge of cautious disbelief and directly into that hazy place of red hot anger. He wanted to know everything that he'd seen, reclaim every moment he'd had no right to take for himself. Fueled by fury he took a step closer.

"You _what_?"

Aaron flinched, his body curling in on itself in preparation for abuse. "It was for our protection! You can't tell me you wouldn't do the exact same thing if you were in my position. Not everyone makes it out here with their morality and values intact, you all know that. I'm sure you've seen it more times than you can count. We want to bring people in but we need to make sure that those people are good people that will contribute to the community and get on well with the other members."

"How long?"

"It wasn't personal…"

Daryl leaned down to snatch up handfuls of Aaron's jacket and jerked him closer, staring down his nose at him and growling, _"How long?"_

"A week," he sputtered. "We followed you for a week."

Daryl's eyes snapped to Rick's. " _We_?"

Before Rick could open his mouth Aaron spoke again hurriedly. "I already told Rick there are only two of us… me and my partner. We've been doing these recruiting missions for months."

"Plenty of time to work out a system," Daryl spat. "What is that you want? Weapons, food? The fucking clothes off our backs?"

"We are _not_ a threat," Aaron pleaded. "We are here to extend an invitation, not to ambush you. If that were our primary objective there are plenty of ways we could have done that without putting me at your mercy. The only thing we want to do is help you all survive. To have you help _us_ survive."

Experience told him to ignore the man and his breathless promises, to leave him tied to the floor with a bullet in his brain and flee. But up close Daryl still couldn't see even the slightest hint of dishonesty behind his eyes. He was as open and honest as a complete stranger could be despite his current circumstances, and that confused him.

Daryl could only conclude that he was either an idiot or a very brave man.

A soft rapping on the door tore his focus away and he let go of Aaron's jacket with a forceful thrust that rocked him slightly backwards. Without a word he walked to the door and slid it open part way to find Beth standing calmly on the other side.

"Let me talk to him," she said quietly.

Daryl glanced back over his shoulder at Aaron who, although he had the decency to look worried, eyed him and the partially open door curiously. Reasoning that the man was restrained and arguing with Beth was pointless, he opened the door wider and she slid under his arm, her hand brushing lightly across his stomach as she passed.

Beth eyed Aaron carefully for a moment after Daryl shut the door. Then she sat slowly down several feet in front of him, crossing her legs and folding her hands delicately in her lap.

"Hello," she greeted softly, offering up a cautious smile that Aaron gratefully returned.

"You're Beth."

Her eyes narrowed, her head tilting slightly to the side. "I don't like that you know my name before I've introduced myself to you."

Daryl saw a self-conscious flush rise in the man's cheeks. "I know," he nodded, "I'm… I'm sorry about that."

Beth waved a hand around the garage. "Is this how it usually goes?"

"How what goes?" Beth nodded to his restraints and Aaron shook his head, looking almost amused. "No. This is abnormal even for today's standards. Although I understand your concerns, and I certainly commend your group's caution. Stranger danger and all that. But I don't know what else to say… how else to convince even one of you that I'm trustworthy."

"I don't know that you can," Beth replied honestly. "We don't have a very good track record with strangers. Or communities for that matter."

"We're different," Aaron said quietly. "We're not like those people you're so afraid of."

"That may be true, but you can't prove something like that with a picture," Beth said, eyeing the photos scattered on the floor where Daryl had dropped them in his moment of blind fury.

Aaron sighed. "If that's the case, if you truly don't want to come… that's fine. You don't have to. But I wish you'd just let me go. Or at least untie me."

Beth was quiet for a long time, examining Aaron with her head still tilted to the side. She could have been looking at a sculpture or a painting in a museum, so carefully and interestedly did she watch him. Daryl wondered what exactly she was looking for.

"You're worried," she said finally, her brow furrowing.

Aaron chuckled half-heartedly, jerking his chin at his restraints. "Well, considering I'm tied up and not doing a very good job of convincing the lot of you that my offer is legitimate…"

Beth shook her head. "No, that isn't why you're worried. Not really." She paused, searching Aaron's face again for something Daryl still couldn't see. Then, her eyes widening slightly, she asked, "What's her name?"

Aaron frowned. "Her name?"

"The person you're so worried about. The person you want to get back to."

Aaron looked momentarily stunned, his mouth falling open slightly at being read so clearly and quickly. Daryl felt a drop of sympathy for the man, having been surprised more than once by how easily Beth could uncover the bullshit and get to the heart of a problem or person. Beth merely looked at him, her eyes soft while she waited patiently for an answer. After a while Aaron dropped his gaze to his lap.

" _His_ name is Eric."

"Is he the man you brought with you? The one that's still out there watching us?"

"He's not watching you," Aaron corrected. "He went back to the RV to wait for me and the rest of you." Aaron turned his head to the corner where Rick still stood. "Like I explained to everyone earlier, we brought a car and an RV in case we found a big group so we could bring everyone back at once. We're only parked a couple of miles south of here… some big trees fell in last night's storm and we couldn't clear the road to get any closer."

Beth addressed Rick for the first time since she'd entered the garage. "How long ago did you send them?"

He shot a glance down at the scratched watch on his wrist. "Glenn, Carol, Michonne, and your sister all left about forty minutes ago." He glared down at Aaron. "If they're not back within the hour Aaron here has been told he isn't going to like what happens to him."

"You won't have to do that," Beth said with a small shake of her head.

"Why not?" Daryl asked, too perplexed by the assuredness with which she spoke to _not_ wonder aloud. She unfolded her legs and stood gracefully, brushing off the seat of her pants and shooting Aaron one final glance before sliding the door open. The light bled into the dark space and across the side of her face in a glistening ray, bleaching the color from one of her eyes as she fixed her gaze on Daryl.

"Because he's telling the truth."

She left without another word, leaving behind a heavy silence in the space where she'd stood. Daryl exchanged a look with Rick, reading the hard disbelief in his friend's face as easily as if it were printed across his forehead. He knew it would take more than Beth's rock solid faith to sway his opinion of Aaron. However, having heard enough from their guest Daryl followed her out, sliding the rickety door shut behind him with a bang.

Daryl broke into a jog to catch up to Beth who was already halfway towards the cabin.

"Why are you so sure he's telling the truth?" He asked once he'd caught up to her, reaching a hand out and pulling her gently to a stop. Beth turned and looked up at him.

"Because he's more worried about the man out there than he is about himself, even though he's the one tied up in a shed with Rick." She started walking again at a slower pace and Daryl matched her stride. "People who are bad aren't capable of that, of loving another human being that selflessly." A shadow fell over her face for a moment but when she glanced up at him it was gone.

"Besides," she continued, "don't pretend like you didn't see it too."

"I don't know that he's telling the truth," Daryl said. And he didn't. Even if he looked honest, even if his story about the cars checked out, the warning signs were all there, blatantly obvious and blaring at him like a fire alarm. He wanted guaranteed safety and tangible proof, more proof than a blurry black and white photo could give.

"Maybe not, but you know the difference between the good and the bad, Daryl. And if he was truly a bad person not only would you have not let me talk to him in the first place but we'd be having a very different conversation right now. Michonne believes him, Maggie does too. I think most everyone else _wants_ to."

His stomach twisted into a strange, tight knot. "Do _you_ want to go?"

For a moment she didn't answer him, her eyes slowly taking in the cabin and the clearing with a sad and wistful look. He could see on her face how much she liked it here. She didn't want to leave it any more than he did.

"I don't know yet," she said finally. "But Rick won't stay here. I bet he's already talked to you about leaving." Daryl said nothing but his silence was confirmation enough for Beth who merely nodded at the ground. "A few more weeks like the last couple we had… we won't make it. We barely made it this far. I know it sounds a little too good to be true, but if it _is_ true? We could really use this. Don't you think?"

He was saved from answering when across the clearing Michonne suddenly appeared, stepping through a clump of blackberry bushes and followed immediately by Carol, Glenn, and Maggie. Upon seeing her sister alive and in one piece Maggie's face crumpled with relief, and as she got closer Daryl could see the physical restraint she employed to keep from smothering Beth with questions. Beth gave her a nod and a tight smile in return.

Glenn and Carol headed off towards the garage to talk to Rick with their weapons cradled in their hands. Michonne waited until Sasha, Tyreese, Abraham, and Rosita joined the rest of them from their guard posts along the perimeter before speaking.

"A car and a RV, parked on a road covered in fallen trees. Just like he said," she reported. Daryl detected more than a hint of triumph in her voice and knew what Beth had said was true. Michonne wasn't being shy about how badly she wanted this.

Sasha asked, "Was that other man there? His partner?"

Maggie shook her head. "They were both stocked though with food, water, some first aid equipment…"

"Everything you might need to lure a group of hungry and desperate people into a bus trip straight to hell," Abraham muttered.

"Lucky for us we're currently not that hungry or desperate," Sasha said.

"And when that stops being the case?" Michonne argued, her voice rising slightly. "When we end up back out there? There isn't always a hidden cabin in the woods full of provisions just waiting to save us. What if next time is it and we're out there too long?"

Tyreese raised a hand to speak his piece. "He's told the truth about everything so far," he said, his low voice rumbling gently around the cluster of drawn, conflicted faces. "Why not believe him? Why not see if this could lead somewhere?"

"I know that none of us wants to end up at the mercy of another Governor…" Maggie said, her eyes flashing with anger as she spoke his name.

"…or someone's dinner," Tara added.

"…but we need this. If this place is everything Aaron says it is then Michonne is right," Maggie finished. "We can't afford not to."

"She's right," Rick's voice floated from behind. Daryl turned to see him leading Aaron, Glenn, and Carol towards them, their weapons holstered or slung across their backs. His eyes scanned the group, landing on each one of them. "I know I didn't want to trust him, but he's told the truth. And after everything that we've been through, I don't see why we can't make it through this too no matter how it plays out. We'll do this smart, take further precaution just like always. But if anyone has a serious objection, speak now."

Daryl knew that for the majority of the group, the call of normalcy and safety was an irresistible siren song. Naturally they were worried and mistrustful, scarred by every dashed hope and futile survival-pipe dream that had blown up in their faces and painted their pasts bloody. But they wanted it anyway, which is why it didn't surprise him when no one argued any further.

"Alright then," Rick said with a nod. "It's decided. Everyone pack your things… we'll leave within the hour."

"Where is it exactly that we're going?" Carol asked Aaron, her eyes chips of ice that stared at him coldly.

Aaron sighed, appearing only mildly subdued by the tone of her voice and said, "We're going to Alexandria."

* * *

As usual, Daryl smelled them before he heard them.

They had made good time on their walk due to Rick's insistence that they take a short cut through the woods that would bring them on the side of vehicles rather than taking the road and walking straight up to them an exposed huddle. Aaron, whose hands were now tied in front of him, had just announced how close they were when the distinct rot of walkers carried towards them on the breeze. Soon everyone was sharing looks of apprehension, immediately slowing their steps and loosening their ammo-free weapons from belt loops and ankle holsters. Rick held up his hand when they neared the edge of the road, peering ahead through the trees and gauging the size of the problem.

From where Daryl crouched it didn't look so bad. At least two dozen walkers had the RV surrounded, their frenzied growls punctuated by the sound of their rotting grey palms slapping against the door.

Beside him Aaron stiffened, his face paling with alarm. "Oh God," he whispered. "Eric!"

He lunged forward and both Daryl and Rick shot an arm out to hold him back. Daryl could feel the undiluted fury rippling through his body at being restrained and he opened his mouth to protest but Rick interrupted him.

"Shut up and don't move!" He hissed. "Assuming this isn't part of your plan, you go running off half-cocked and you'll bring 'em all down on us. We don't know how many are on the other side!"

"Get your hands off of me!" Aaron snapped, fighting to break free with a strength that Daryl hadn't expected from him. His eyes were wide, taking in the RV and the walkers that surrounded it with a wild desperation and in that moment Daryl knew Beth was right; Aaron cared far more for the man inside that RV than he cared about himself. "For some reason they know he's in there. He could be hurt!"

"God dammit, just hold on," Rick said, yanking him back until he fell on his butt. He locked eyes with Tyreese, Carol, and Sasha and silently directed them to go around to the front of the RV, sending Maggie, Glenn, and Michonne to approach from the back. They scurried off in opposite directions, stepping as quietly as possible over the forest floor to get into position.

Daryl felt confident. They'd handled insurmountable numbers of walkers at one time before and with less than they had on them right now. Clearing the RV would be a piece of cake. He glanced at Beth over his shoulder and said quietly, "Will you stay and watch out for Tara?" She nodded silently from under Tara's arm and with Eugene's help began moving towards a fallen log to sit her down.

On Rick's signal the rest of the group approached the RV from all sides, the time for quiet having passed. The walkers began to turn their ugly faces towards the sounds of their twig snapping and rustling, losing interest in the unreachable meal inside of the RV. More approached from the other side in a blur of brown and grey, but the group at the front quickly led them a few yards down the road, making the masses smaller and more manageable as the fight began.

It was a simple, routine slaughter. The throaty roars of the walkers being cut short by the thuds of blades and arrows sinking mercilessly into their long-dead brains was a symphony Daryl had heard a thousand times before. At times like this his mind went blank and his crossbow became an extension of himself. It aimed and fired with no required guidance from his brain, his arrows finding their target with precision every time.

However his zen-like battle stance came to a shattering halt when Aaron suddenly broke free from his assigned position beside Rick, sprinting towards the RV without the slightest regard for the walkers lunging towards him. Swearing under his breath, Daryl broke rank and chased after him, aiming and firing mid-run as Rick bellowed his name.

Aaron was fumbling with the latch on the door with his restrained hands, completely oblivious to the walker approaching him from behind. Its mouth was mere inches away from clamping down on his exposed neck when Daryl fired his crossbow, the sound of its release and the impact of the arrow entering the walker's skull sending Aaron spinning around in a flurry. He glanced down at the now dead walker at his feet and then at Daryl, giving a shaky nod of thanks when he realized what had happened.

The last walker was still falling to the ground when Aaron finally flung the door to the RV open, jumping inside and calling Eric's name frantically. Rick and Michonne followed, joining him immediately in the cramped living space with their weapons still drawn. `

The man called Eric was just inside the door and had propped himself up against a low cabinet with his legs stretched out in front of him. He was pale and skinny with a long face currently adorned with a bleeding cut down his temple and a grimace of pain he was trying unsuccessfully to hide with humor.

"Before you freak out, I'm fine. It's just my ankle," Eric said to Aaron through his teeth. "You know me… Clumsy Clara. I was running from those roamers and the next thing I know I'm tripping over a stupid tree root and the ground's coming up to high five my face."

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't try running anymore," Aaron said with a smile as shallow as a puddle. A furrow deep enough to hold water dipped between his eyebrows, his worry further visible in the hesitant way he inspected the gash along Eric's temple and the balloon-like swelling in his ankle.

Eric shrugged with a breathy laugh and nodded at his foot. "I don't think it matters if we agreed or not. If it's as bad as it hurts I won't be running again for quite some time."

Daryl watched the entire exchange from the doorway with wary eyes. Minus the blood on his face and the sweat dampening his forehead, the man looked as clean and unthreatening as Aaron. He supposed it helped that the man was hurt and therefore vulnerable should his primary judgment prove false.

Rick cleared his throat and Eric's eyes cut to him as if he were just now noticing their presence.

"Oh hi," Eric said to him. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to be rude. I'm Eric."

Rick begrudgingly acknowledged his introduction with an infinitesimal lift of his chin. "Rick Grimes."

Distractedly Aaron introduced Michonne and Daryl. "It's great to meet all of you," Eric said politely, his smile wide and genuine.

"Why weren't you here when we came by earlier?" Michonne asked. "We searched both cars."

Eric smiled sheepishly. "Those roamers had come by and were just standing there in the middle of the road, waiting around. I tried to get rid of them so that you all wouldn't show up thinking we'd set some kind of trap for you. As you can see I didn't exactly do a bang up job."

"We could have handled it," Aaron chastised him, his voice tight with anger Daryl recognized as a disguise for his fear of what could have happened. He lifted a trembling hand to the unwounded side of Eric's face and said more softly, "That was an incredibly stupid thing to do."

Eric merely smiled, covering Aaron's hand with his own and giving his fingers a squeeze.

After that things began to move very quickly. As Beth was occupied with Tara, Rick called Maggie inside to attend to Eric's ankle and, after a brief introduction, she fixed a makeshift splint out of two thick twigs and a t-shirt Aaron produced from his backpack. She talked while she worked, and Daryl could only assume it was to keep him distracted from the pain of what she had declared a possibly fractured ankle. She did manage to elicit smiles from both her patient and Aaron who refused to leave his side to help clear the trees in the road or drive.

Before long people began filing into the RV, smelling like pine sap and finding seats wherever they could while Michonne, Carol, and Judith situated themselves in the rusty red car parked behind. Abraham pulled himself up into the driver's seat and both he and Rick listened carefully to Aaron's directions while they moved Eric onto one of the beds in the back.

They drove for almost two hours, bumping along the empty, sun bathed roads and catching occasional glimpses of larger cities through the dusty windows. Eugene, Tara, and Tyreese sat at the dining table trying to teach Carl how to play poker, but for the most part everyone was quiet, lost in their own thoughts and private worries of the uncertainty that they were driving straight into.

Beth sat sandwiched between him and Rosita on the small, threadbare couch, every bump and pot hole they drove over jostling her against his side. It was almost funny how despite the distrustful trepidation rolling through him, she and her closeness occupied every free space of thought in his brain. Her hand sat empty and waiting on her thigh, and it was maddening not to be able to fold it inside of his own.

Feeling more tightly wound than a compressed spring, Daryl occupied himself by chewing on his lip until he tasted the salt of blood.

"We're here," Abraham said suddenly, causing everyone's heads to turn towards the front of the RV. Daryl could see it up ahead, a massive metal wall stretching out on either side of the road with a rust colored gate gleaming like a beating red heart at its center.

Beth pressed her leg against his as they drew closer, pulling his gaze away from the windshield and towards hers.

 _It's going to be alright,_ she was saying. _No matter what happens._

He desperately wanted to believe her.

Rick brought the car to a stop about twenty yards away from the gate and Abraham pulled up behind him. Aaron and Eric were the first ones to move, gimping slowly through the tight corridor and down the pull out steps to the ground. Everyone else followed with cautious steps and weapons drawn, blinking in the sunshine as tension drew across their shoulders like taut rubber bands.

Despite his hesitance, Daryl couldn't help but scoff as they approached it and he got a better look at the wall Aaron had raved about. There were no guards patrolling the gate or lookouts posted in the dark window of the tower whose bone-white spire stretched up into the mid-afternoon sky. Not a single swirl of barbed wire decorated the top of the walls to prevent climbing over them, nor were there any pits or traps for walkers to fall in or impale themselves on along its front. He caught Rick's eye who merely shook his head in disbelief. Whoever was on the other side was kidding themselves if they thought they were safe.

From the other side the gate began to slide open with a soft, metallic groan and Daryl felt every muscle not already on high alert shift to Def-con 1.

They were greeted by a thin, curly haired man who looked incredibly confused by their presence, his brow pulled so low over his eyes they were practically closed. He had a rifle slung across his back, but didn't bother to arm himself as he scanned them all. Daryl stayed back with everyone else, weapon at the ready and watching as Aaron and Eric limped past him and over the gate's threshold.

A bespectacled woman also appeared on other side. Weaponless and shielding the sun from her eyes with an outstretched hand, she eyed them curiously before greeting Aaron, hurrying forward to help him with Eric.

"Will you take him to Pete?" Daryl heard him ask her before releasing his hold on the skinny man's waist. Aaron watched Eric limp slowly away down the street before turning back to face their group, visibly trying to push his worry aside.

He waved them forward. "C'mon in guys," he said.

Rick stepped forward first with Judith balanced on his hip, walking with slow, heavy steps as his eyes did a thorough scan of everything laid out before them. The rest followed slowly after him, eying the gate and their first glimpses of its contents with experienced and wary eyes.

Without a word the curly haired man pushed the gate with its flaky red bars shut with one hand, before going back to slide the privacy gate into place behind the group. Daryl couldn't help but turn to watch as the view of the road outside grew smaller and smaller. When it finally clanged close he sighed, unable to shake the feeling deep down in his gut that from that moment on nothing would ever be the same.

* * *

 **Thank you for your patience with this update. Life hasn't been very kind these past few weeks and free time to write and edit has been hard to come by.**

 **I also wanted to thank you for your reviews. They are incredibly lovely. I'm so glad so many of you are enjoying the story (:**

 **xo, kaitiebee**


	18. Interview

Her imagination had painted the leader of Alexandria as a woman who looked something like Dawn with the twisted, volatile personality of the Governor. But Deanna Monroe turned out to be nothing like that.

She was a petite, plain looking woman with a sharp chin and short, copper colored hair that brushed her shoulders. Everything about her oozed leadership and strength, from the confident tenor of her voice when she introduced herself to the casually commanding way she sat in the chair across from Beth. She also had a fierce and perceptive gaze that Beth knew immediately would be difficult to hide from or lie to, but underneath all of that there was a simple eagerness for knowledge and genuine, almost motherly warmth that kept her from being overly-intimidating.

Nonetheless Beth sat stiffly in the seat she'd been directed to, her hands curled like claws around the edge of the cushion. A part of her respected the idea of interviewing newcomers. It wasn't anything her group hadn't done before bringing new people to the prison, although their screening process was much simpler and didn't leave room for unsatisfactory answers. Plus, Rick, Michonne, and her sister had already completed their interviews and had come out in one piece, so she didn't exactly feel threatened. But the entire thing still felt a little surreal, like a test she was completely unprepared for.

The business about being videotaped made her nervous too, and her eyes kept wandering towards the video camera propped just behind Deanna's shoulder. It stared, an unblinking eye that would capture every breath and twitch for the sake of transparency, so that people she hadn't even met yet could observe and evaluate her. Beth tried to avoid looking at it, feeling self-conscious under so much focused and unwanted attention.

Deanna folded her hands in her lap, the kind smile she offered up a direct contrast to her down-to-business attitude and Beth knew her interview was about to begin. "Could you state your name for me please?"

"Beth Greene."

"You're Maggie's sister?" Beth nodded. "How old are you?"

She blinked. Six seconds in and already she didn't know what to say, thrown by an incredibly simple question. Her cheeks reddened with the realization that she wasn't exactly sure how old she was, that she had let such a basic part of her identity slip away.

"18, 19."

"You don't know how old you are?"

Beth bristled at the gentle amusement in Deanna's voice. "It hasn't mattered for a long time."

Deanna bobbed her head from side to side. "I suppose that's true. Time and dates are something mankind made up. Like everything else it appears to have become a thing of the past."

Beth would have agreed with her if she hadn't noticed her occasional glance at the plain watch adorning her wrist or hear the clock in the kitchen ticking steadily away. There also appeared to be a calendar flipped open and stuck to the fridge door with a smiley face magnet, black and blue pen scrawls scribbled inside the perfectly aligned boxes. Time and dates had become a thing of the past for people like Beth, maybe, but not Deanna.

"Becoming a young woman was hard enough before all of this started," the woman continued matter-of-factly. "I don't envy you having to do it out there."

Again Beth didn't know what to say. Was it selfish of her to agree? Did Deanna want her to disagree?

"We weren't always out there. On the road, I mean. There was my family's farm. There was a prison."

"What happened to those places? Why did you leave them?"

Beth winced. She had tried incredibly hard to forget the past in an attempt at self-preservation, but no matter how hard she tried there were details that lingered, images and sounds forever burned against her retinas.

Like the tongues of yellow flames enveloping the barn as hundreds of walkers spread out over the fields of her childhood, a plague of undead come to wipe the farm from existence; like the feel of Patricia's blood splashing in tiny flecks across her face as those same walkers tore her out of Beth's hands, the screams of pain and terror as they devoured her echoing in her ears.

And like the Governor, standing atop a tank claiming what they had worked so hard for as his own and pressing a gleaming blade to her father's throat. Her brain would not let her forget the mind-numbing fear that stole the breath from her lungs as the sound of gunfire ripped through the air when they refused him, or how the ground had shook beneath her feet as the tank rumbled through the fences they'd all thought would protect them. It forced her to remember how it felt to be drowning in despair as acrid plumes of black smoke rose into the bright blue sky and brought the home she'd come to love crumbling to the ground.

Deanna wondered why they'd left those places?

 _Because something or someone always came to take them away._

"We didn't have a choice," she said finally. She'd vowed to be civil, to do her part to make them welcome in this place. But she could hear her voice growing cold, hardened by the painful memories she was being forced to relive to satisfy the curiosity of a complete stranger.

To Beth's immense relief Deanna seemed to sense that and eased the conversation in a new direction. "What do you think of this place?" She asked, waving her hand in an all-encompassing gesture.

Beth looked around the tastefully decorated room with its modern appliances and spotless floors. There was artwork hanging on the walls, shelves full of antique books and purposeless knickknacks, pretty white curtains draped over the windows. Outside the streets were quiet and orderly. People sat on the front porches of their big, beautiful houses in rocking chairs and waved at one another. They walked dogs and chatted on corners about casserole recipes and pick-up football games, blissfully ignorant of the horrors that a measly wall of sheet metal shielded them from.

Truthfully it made her antsy. It was ridiculous and weak, every individual aspect adding up to the kind of living she'd thought the world had completely destroyed.

And yet it was everything they'd longed for from the very beginning.

"It's very clean," Beth answered simply, her mouth twitching in response to the delighted laugh that burst from Deanna's mouth.

"Well, we try," she chuckled, her eyes disappearing in a web of wrinkles that betrayed her age. "Although I don't imagine we'll be passing out any yard of the month awards anytime soon. Can you believe there ever was such a thing, a reward for mowing the lawn and trimming the rosebushes? It all seems so silly now."

Beth nodded in agreement, again at a loss for what exactly she was supposed to say. Much of their old lives had been silly, filled with distraction and diversion. But considering the old life was something Deanna appeared to be striving for, it didn't seem in her best interest to bring it up.

"What was life like for you before, Beth?"

"That hasn't mattered for a long time either."

A patient smile stretched across Deanna's face and she suddenly leaned closer, her eagerness propelling her forward.

"It matters to me."

Beth sighed, turning away from Deanna's probing gaze and the merciless black eye of the camera and stared out the window. She could see bits and pieces of her reflection in it, a ghostly, half-formed image that flickered in the rays of mottled sunlight drifting down through the surrounding trees. When they'd first been told about these required interviews she'd had no idea what to expect. Still she had imagined something different, something less about who she'd been and more about who she was right then and there. Doing the opposite only made her feel unsettled, completely off-balance.

"I lived all my life in Georgia in a tiny town no one's ever heard of. I was a daughter and a little sister, a high school student who worried about grades and homework and boys. I played the piano, sang in the church choir." It never ceased to surprise her how forcefully she could miss the carefree, sheltered life she'd taken for granted. The life she had assumed would go on forever. On cue, a dull ache of grief began to throb in her chest and she bit her lip to refocus the pain.

"Why do you think none of that matters?"

Beth turned back to Deanna, mildly astounded at how such an intelligent looking woman could ask such stupid questions. It didn't matter because it didn't. That life she described was just a memory as were most of the people in it, the girl she had been as strange to her as if she'd never been her at all.

"Because it's gone. _She's_ gone," Beth said finally. "And I'm right here."

Deanna regarded her silently for a moment, an unreadable expression on her face. Then pursing her lips and nodding slowly she said, "You adapt or you die."

 _I'm not Carol, I'm not Michonne, I'm not Maggie... but I made it._ It felt like a lifetime ago that she'd yelled those words at Daryl but they were still true. She'd forced herself to become strong, adapting and surviving everything that had happened to her between then and now.

Smiling tentatively Beth nodded. "Something like that."

"Was it adapting that gave you those scars?"

Her smile faded and was replaced by a steely-eyed glare, every ounce of comfortability she'd begun to feel vanishing in an instant. She may have been strong and understood the need for an interview, and Deanna may have been mostly just kind and eager. But she had no right to ask such a thing. No one did.

"You can ask me whatever you want," Beth said in a low and steady voice, "and I will answer as honestly as I can. But you don't get to ask about my scars. That story doesn't belong to you."

For a moment Deanna said nothing, her own smile having disappeared. A miniscule part of Beth was worried she'd been too hasty, closed herself off too soon and ruined the woman's opinion of her in a way that would reflect badly on the rest of her group. A much larger part of her was stewing in the furious, indignant anger simmering in her belly and couldn't care less.

Deanna briefly closed her eyes and nodded once.

"Fair enough," she said quietly.

Beth let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding and looked away. A heavy silence fell between them but she did nothing to alleviate it, doing her best not to reveal any further weakness to Deanna's unwavering gaze.

"I think you could be happy here," she said finally. Beth tried to hide her surprise, but Deanna's shrewd eyes saw it anyway. "You don't agree?"

Beth shrugged lightly. "Happiness is kind of a relative term."

"You're not wrong there… happiness definitely means something different than it used to. It looks different, it's achieved differently. But that doesn't mean it's any less special or worthwhile when you feel it, wouldn't you agree? What makes Beth happy?"

"I'm happy when my family is together. I'm happy when no one is hungry, when we're granted a good night's sleep, when I hear Judith or Carl laugh."

Her heart beat faster as the face of a certain surly redneck also came to mind and she had to duck her head in an effort to hide her blush from Deanna. She wanted to add _, And Daryl. Daryl makes me happy._ But Deanna didn't get to have that either. That was hers and hers alone.

Beth saw something in Deanna's face shift from inquisitive interest to approval. She leaned even closer, practically perching on the very edge of the cushion, her bright eyes twinkling as if she possessed a delicious secret and physically couldn't wait to share it with Beth.

"This place can provide all of those things," she whispered passionately, the persuasive force of her self-assured faith so strong Beth realized if she wasn't careful she'd get swept up in anything the woman said regardless of its truth. "It _is_ all of those things. Everything you just said and all of the things you want but aren't telling me. And despite your reserve I think you already have faith in it. You're group's been out there a long time and so have you. That you can see the things you've seen and done the things I'm sure you've had to do and come out on the other side still receptive to the idea of a place like this… _that's a gift_. And, in my opinion, demonstrates an incredible strength of character."

Beth swallowed, the politeness her mother had instilled in her pushing a yet to be spoken thank you to the tip of her tongue. But she found it difficult to speak, unsure if she truly believed the things Deanna said or if she just wanted to.

"I don't need to tell you that every day in this life is a gift, just like this place is," Deanna continued, negating the need for a response. "And we can't squander either of them away. If this place is to be successful, a truly thriving community we need people like you, Beth."

"People like me? You don't even know me."

"No," Deanna agreed immediately. "I don't. Not yet. But I can see that you're tough, and you strike me as the kind of person who puts others before herself. Who when asked what makes her happy talks about her family being well fed and the laughter of a child. _That's_ the kind of person I want here. _That's_ the kind of person who will make this community great."

Beth looked down at the tattered rips in her jeans, suddenly fascinated by the shine of the ground-in dirt in the light colored denim. Despite her best attempts at remaining distant and wary she could feel a tiny seed of hope beginning to take root in the pit of her stomach, a whisper of pride and gratitude at Deanna's words mingling with an overwhelming desire to be the person Deanna was sure she was.

Her point made Deanna leaned back in her seat, a much less aggressive posture that allowed Beth to relax a little. "Do you have any questions you'd like to ask me?" She asked.

Beth had plenty of questions, but none that seemed important enough to ask at that moment. Deanna shot her a final smile after Beth shook her head and stood, taking light, quick steps around the couch to turn off the camera.

"Thank you very much, Beth," she said as the little red light on the camera blinked off. She swept an open palm towards the front door Beth had entered through. "It was a pleasure talking to you. And if you would please send the next person in, I would appreciate it."


	19. Here

Daryl lay awake in the living room, stretched out on the hard, lacquered window seat beside Judith's crib and staring up at the blue shadows flickering across the ceiling. The ruckus caused by thirteen sleeping people filled the open space and competed with the nighttime noises rolling in through the open window on thin bursts of cool air. His body ached with tiredness but disquiet buzzed through his limbs like electricity and kept him conscious, the strangeness of the day's events only now beginning to settle over him.

 _"Daryl… do you want to be here?"_

Of all the questions he had been asked during his interview that was the one he couldn't get out of his head. It had burrowed into the pathways of his brain like a termite, drowning out the vigilant voice in his head that told him to be cautious, to give nothing away to this woman with her probing questions and shrewd gaze. He'd looked around the spacious room full of light and books and comfort, all of which made him feel incredibly uncomfortable, and spoke about Carl and Judith instead. How they deserved a roof over their heads, a place they could grow up and call home.

Deanna had tilted her head to the side at his evasive answer, a soft smile playing about her lips even as a furrow appeared between her eyebrows. He expected her to ask again, to rephrase her question in such a way that he wouldn't be able to wriggle out of. But she hadn't, asking instead about how long he'd been with the group and his place in it.

Across the room Tyreese began to snore and blankets rustled as someone rolled over. Daryl turned his head toward the window and gazed up at the sliver of sky hanging over the metal wall. The stars twinkled silently in their bed of midnight blue, offering little insight.

He knew how desperately a respite from out there was needed. But did he want to be in a place that still considered guns to be the bigger threat? Bigger than the knives they'd been allowed to keep or the walking dead outside their precious wall, bigger even than letting a group of dirty, hardened strangers walk among them? Their trustfulness astounded him and their generosity merely put him on edge.

 _Did_ he want to be here?

A definite answer would not come.

He heard more rustling and turned his head in time to see Rick stand abruptly from the middle of the room and disappear into the dark kitchen. Daryl was semi-comforted by the knowledge that his friend was having as hard of a time adjusting as he was, so sure that the people of Alexandria would show their true colors and force his hand that it kept him awake.

Earlier that evening, after the interviews had come to a close and their weapons dispatched to a large bespectacled woman with a cart who didn't look like she knew a damn thing about guns, he and Rick had done a security sweep around the two homes they were given. Both houses looked straight from the glossy pages of magazines he used to see at the grocery store lined up alongside tabloids and packets of gum. They were both absurdly large with wide, covered front porches, sparkling windows, and brightly colored front doors. Inside featured open floor plans with expensive furniture that coordinated with the tastefully colored walls. Water flowed from the taps in a pleasurable range of temperatures; each bedroom had a door that shut and locked. Everything was impeccably clean and organized.

A place for everything and everything in its place.

Together he and Rick had checked for stability in the wall surrounding their new houses, cataloguing blind spots and inconspicuous places to set up a look out while the others inspected the rooms on the inside. After about twenty minutes of searching and studying, Daryl had found nothing to suggest an ambush was in the works. He met back up with Rick at the side yard that ran between the two houses, who merely shook his head to indicate he had found nothing either.

"I don't know how I feel about all of this," Rick said quietly. Although Aaron had told them the members of the community had been asked to leave them alone, his eyes continued to scan the empty street in front of them, tension in his shoulders indicating he was still expecting some kind of threat to materialize.

Daryl sighed and rested his hands on his hips, glancing at the ground. "Tell me about it."

"It looks secure…" Rick admitted begrudgingly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Daryl shook his head slightly, unwilling to accept it was really that easy. "But two of them?"

"I know," Rick replied. "They're trying to split us up. We play it safe, stay in one house tonight… wait and see what happens."

Daryl bit back a scoff. He'd never been one for the "wait and see" approach, but he supposed without any evidence to suggest they were in trouble there weren't any better options. For a moment they stood together in a companionable silence. Distant laughter and cheers floated from down the street where a few people could be seen kicking around a soccer ball, and suddenly Rick sighed.

"You know when we rolled up to the gate and I heard kids laughing and playing I thought… maybe. Maybe this'll turn out okay. None of those other places had kids. They only had silence and assholes with machine guns."

"You feel differently now?"

Rick shook his head. "No, that's not it. I just… I guess I don't know yet if I believe in this place or if part of me just wants to."

Just then Carol had stepped out onto the front porch, silently asking them to come inside by jerking her head towards the open door. Daryl searched her face for a clue of what she was thinking, but saw only the grim frown she'd taken to wearing lately. He swallowed the response that sat like a cotton ball on his tongue as Rick began to climb the stairs with heavy steps, following after him and deciding his own indecision about the place wouldn't help Rick or anyone else.

He didn't notice if Rick came back to the living room because eventually he fell asleep, although he didn't realize he had done so until he wrenched open his eyes to find the stars outside his window had faded away into the dawn. Feeling energized and antsy with the few hours of rest he stepped silently over and around the sleeping, snoring bodies on the floor and slipped quietly out the front door.

He set off down the middle of the street without a plan or destination, taking deep breaths of air that smelled like pine and grass and dying leaves. Although he preferred the quiet and mystery of nighttime, he'd always held a soft spot for dawn with its watercolor skies and its clashing symphony of birdsong. Even the air tasted different this early in the morning, bright and fresh with dew. Its effect on him was instantaneous, a balm on his restless mind.

Daryl meandered through the quiet, empty streets on silent feet feeling like just another shadow in the blue-grey light. He was grateful for the solitude, although the occasional orange glow of a lamp flickering on from inside the houses he past reminded him that he wasn't actually alone. He could picture what was going on inside those rooms: alarms going off, husbands stretching beside their yawning wives, bleary-eyed children stumbling down the stairs in search of a bowl of cereal or whatever it was they ate for breakfast in this place. He could almost hear their voices rough with sleep and greeting one another over weak coffee, talking about their upcoming days and chores and unfinished homework problems.

And there he was, taking a morning stroll down the street like it was something he'd always done. Like he was a part of this bewilderingly idyllic place and its morning rituals. The normalcy of it all gripped at his throat and squeezed the breath from his lungs. He stopped mid-stride and turned around, walking hurriedly back towards the house his family slept in on the outskirts of the community.

The house was still dark and quiet when he approached it. Taking the stairs two at a time he climbed onto the front porch, sliding his bow off of his shoulder and taking a seat in the corner where he stayed as the light grew stronger and the temperature warmed, the porch railing pressing into his back. He could hear stirring and the low rumble of conversation from inside as his family awoke and ate breakfast but he did not join them. Eventually the group trickled out of the house, greeting him as they made their way to the street and walking in a clump with cautious steps and wary eyes towards the center of the town.

Beth was one of the last to exit the house, and he caught her eye as she stepped out beside Carl. Her skin had been scrubbed pink and her hair was still damp from the shower she'd taken that morning. She shot him a soft smile that didn't quite reach her eyes as she helped Carl maneuver Judith's new stroller down the steps, but he merely chewed on his lip and watched her go. Rick brought up the rear, closing the sunny yellow door behind him with a thud that shook the painted boards beneath his feet.

Daryl still couldn't believe how different he looked without the dirty puff of beard hanging off of his jaw. He had been clean shaven when they first met and Daryl vaguely remembered what he'd looked like then, but he'd been bearded for so much longer he was as shocked as anyone when he'd walked out of the bathroom without one the night before.

The weight he'd lost in the months since the prison fell was more visible without it. It was most obvious in the slightly sunken planes of his cheeks, the way his cheekbones stood out more prominently in his tanned face. Daryl couldn't help but wonder the changes people who'd been with him from the beginning saw in him, but then decided he was better off not knowing.

"They said explore," Rick said to him, motioning down the street. "Let's explore."

Daryl shook his head. He had seen enough that morning and had no desire to leave his self-assigned post on the porch. "Naw, I'll stay."

Rick nodded in understanding and made a move to follow the group. He stopped at the top step and leaned against the side of the house with a heavy sigh, his gaze moving slowly across the sunny street in front of him.

"Lori and me, we used to drive through neighborhoods like this. Thinking maybe one day…" He trailed off with a shrug.

Daryl could hear the pain of memory in his roughened voice, the sadness that for a moment seemed to turn him inside out. He didn't know what that felt like, to build a future—even one made up of dreams and plans and maybe-one-days—with another person. For a moment he wished that he did so that maybe he could say something more supportive than what came out of his mouth.

"Here we are," he said, bringing his knees closer to his chest. With a final nod Rick headed slowly down the stairs, trailing after the group and his children with long, loping strides.

It wasn't long before Daryl could no longer hear their footsteps scuffling along the pavement. The drone of nature slowly filled his ears and he leaned his head back against the porch slats, taking a deep breath and letting the hum wash over him like water. His gaze drifted back up towards the cheerful yellow door.

Maybe a place like this had been a dream of Rick and Lori's, but it had never been his. No Dixon had ever lived in a house that wasn't a glorified shack or on wheels, let alone an eco-friendly suburb with million dollar mini mansions. He didn't belong in a house like this. He felt like he was breaking and entering just by sitting on the front porch.

It hadn't even been a full day but he could already see the hesitant way his family approached living there shifting, their caution overpowered by their genuine willingness to make this place work. They were desperate for a taste of the normalcy they'd once had and had been forced to give up, for a reprieve from the nightmare that living out on the road was. He understood that. He even wished he could crave that sense of normal too. But having never had that, he reasoned that even if he could shake the unpleasant feelings that collected in his gut he would never be able to appreciate it.

It wasn't danger that he felt, but something less concrete. Something that made his muscles perpetually tensed and discomfort storm through his belly. Everywhere he went he could see the sky in all of its bright blue and limitless glory overhead and yet still he felt trapped, an animal whose cage had been painted with the perfect scene to give the illusion of space, the impression of freedom.

* * *

Beth had never been inside a planned community before, but she imagined the organization, efficiency, and architectural beauty of Alexandria would have put it a step above other existing communities had the world decided not to unravel like a cheap sweater.

She trailed behind the group alongside Carl and Judith, slowly taking in the magnificent homes and the sheer amount of space the people who lived here had at their disposal. It was so deliciously quiet and green, a charming balance between nature and modern civilization. It was as if a cloak of invisibility had been placed over the community, keeping it safe and hidden from the dangers that lurked just outside of its walls.

As they moved further into the community, certain attractions pulled members of the group away. Eugene was drawn to the solar panels and with Glenn's help Tara limped after him, already making lighthearted jokes at the nonsense spilling out of his mouth. Tyreese, Sasha, and Abraham walked the perimeter of the large pond near the center of town where fish were rumored to swim freely, while Gabriel wandered into a small out-building Deanna had told him was used by the community as a church.

Beth still had plenty of reservations about Alexandria but it seemed nice, an observation further proved by the people they passed who smiled and waved, as cordial and polite as complete strangers could be. She could feel her earlier feelings of danger slowly disappearing, and as their walk continued she found her thoughts more occupied by the strange look on Daryl's face as they'd left the house than the scenery.

She was worried what would happen to Daryl if they decided to stay in Alexandria as so much of it involved things that Daryl didn't like. He didn't like walls. It had taken him weeks to permanently move into his own cell back at the prison, referring to them as cages long after they'd settled in despite the fact he could come and go from it as he pleased. He didn't take kindly to any kind of authority figure, he did not follow orders, and she knew for a fact the jobs he had held before the turn wouldn't translate well to this environment.

He was also one of the most loyal men that she had ever known, and she wanted to believe that would be enough to keep him in Alexandria even if the adjustment was difficult. That maybe she would be enough.

"You ok?"

Beth turned to find Carl peering at her worriedly from under the beat up brim of his hat. She was surprised to find that he was as tall as her now. A couple more weeks and she'd have to start looking up to him.

She smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I'm alright."

Carl didn't look convinced. "Are you sure? You were frowning with your whole face."

"What does that mean?"

Beth watched as Carl imitated her, narrowing his eyes and scrunching up his face in an exaggerated look that gave off the impression he had caught a whiff of something truly disgusting. She couldn't help but laugh and she smacked his shoulder, feeling some of the worry clenching around her heart dissipate momentarily with her chuckles.

"I didn't look like that!"

Carl grinned. "You looked a little like that."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head at his cheekiness.

"Beth… you can tell me stuff, you know," Carl said, his voice suddenly quiet and wavering slightly. He kept his gaze directed at the top of Judith's honey colored head of hair and shrugged his thin shoulders up and down. "I mean I know you're still on the rocks with Maggie and Glenn, and Judith's a great listener but she's only mastered like six words. And I might not be able to help very much… but I also might be better than nothing."

His eyes met hers and for a moment he looked so much like Lori that Beth felt her breath catch. Feeling touched by his kindness she reached over and placed her hand on top of his where it gripped the stroller handle, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Of course you are," she said. "Thank you, Carl."

"How old is she?" A woman's voice suddenly called out.

Beth and Carl both looked up in the direction of the voice to find an older couple smiling down at them from the front porch of a large grey house similar to their own. They sat in matching white wicker chairs, each holding a steaming mug in their hands and wearing clean khaki pants. Sensing their confusion, the woman nodded at Judith's stroller.

"The baby," she said. "How old is she?"

"Almost two," Carl answered.

She nodded immediately as if she'd suspected. Beth saw the woman's smile waver slightly, a tightness appearing at the corner of her eyes as she exchanged a sad look with the man beside her. She looked back at them and said brightly, "She's beautiful. Those curls are just darling! What's her name?"

"Judith."

The old man nodded in approval. "That's a good, strong name," he said. "From the Old Testament?"

Carl shrugged self-consciously. "I'm not sure. I just liked it."

The woman chuckled. "Of course you did."

"Two's a good age," the man added softly, nodding down into the depths of his mug on his lap. Beth watched the woman—whom she now assumed was his wife—reach over and give his hand a comforting squeeze. She recognized the gesture and wondered if it was children or grandchildren that they'd lost. Carl seemed to sense the same thing.

"Would… would you like to meet her?" He asked hesitantly.

Beth watched the woman's face light up, the obvious sadness in her eyes fading ever so slightly with surprise.

"We'd love to," she replied.

Beth gave him a searching look as he wheeled the stroller to the stairs and began unstrapping his baby sister, silently asking if he was really alright with this. Carl discreetly tapped the knife at his belt and gave her a wink before turning and climbing the stairs with Judith on his hip. She turned and followed after the remaining group members, listening to Carl introduce himself and Judith to the couple and the delighted cooing that followed from the couple. She shook her head and smiled, feeling strangely pleased with the entire exchange. It was hard to find fault with people who loved children.

The group was stopped outside of a row of red brick townhouses up ahead, giving her a chance to catch up. As she approached them Beth heard Deanna wish them a good morning in her cheerful, no nonsense voice.

"I'm pleased to see you all up and about. I trust everyone had a good first night?"

Both Michonne and Maggie nodded, and Beth saw Carol offer up a strange, tight smile that looked out of place on her face.

"We were getting acquainted with the layout," Maggie offered.

Deanna nodded excitedly, a shimmer of pride glistening in her eyes. "I'm glad. We're not exactly Manhattan but it can be difficult to find your way around if you're not familiar with where things are. Everything built here looks kind of the same… something about cohesive, effortless design or some such nonsense."

Deanna chuckled to herself, then placed a hand on her companion's shoulder. "Forgive me," she said, "I'm being rude. Everyone this is Sarah Redford. Sarah is a very talented seamstress and is currently in charge of organizing and maintaining our clothing supply."

Sarah smiled, slowly waving a hand in a wordless greeting. She had a small build similar to Deanna with short, ash blonde hair that had been thrown up into a pony tail on the top of her head, and curiously light eyes that sat under eyebrows too dark for her face. A couple of ink pens stuck out of her pony tail like chopsticks and Beth briefly wondered what they were for.

"Clothing supply?" Rosita asked.

Deanna nodded. "We have quite a collection of clothing accumulated on runs over the past couple years. We wanted to be prepared for any number of people that came through our gates. And of course we needed stuff to clothe ourselves with. Until we can figure out how to manufacture our own textiles that is." She grinned and Beth felt her own lips twitch. The woman's vision and confidence were truly something else.

"I was actually on my way to your house to introduce you to Sarah and see if any of you would like to grab some new things," Deanna continued.

The women exchanged a look with one another, and Beth knew they were all thinking the same thing. These people sure liked to just give things away.

Maggie nodded and offered up a smile. "We'd like that very much."

They were led a block down the street towards the doors of a two car garage attached to a large house the color of frothy egg yolks. Sarah punched in a code beside one of the doors and they rumbled to life, sliding smoothly open. Beth stood a few steps back in the driveway with the others, unsure of what to expect.

It was no ordinary garage. Floor to ceiling shelves stood along the walls, the majority of which were filled with clear plastic bins. Labels had been affixed to the fronts of each bin with tape, describing in a bold hand the general contents of each bin. Sarah explained that the bins were organized by sex, article, and size and for now they could take three of everything.

"There are a couple of bins with shoes in them in the back," Sarah said pointing towards the far corner of the garage. "But I'm afraid our selection of sizes is limited. Unless yours are falling apart, you might be better off sticking with what you've got. When you're all done just make your way over to me so that I can record what you took."

She smiled and turned towards a three legged stool by the door, opening a large book she pulled from a bag on the floor beside her and placing it on her lap. For a moment Beth and the others simply stood in the middle of the garage staring at the bins and one another. Finally, Rosita and Carol stepped forward and began pulling relevant bins off of the shelf while Michonne and Maggie began rifling through them.

Beth opened a bin and began gently running her fingertips across fabrics, the colors blurring in front of her eyes. The entire experience felt surreal. It was one thing to take clothes from a long abandoned closet or dresser drawer. It was an entirely different thing to "go shopping" in a stranger's garage with nothing to offer in return but gratitude.

Rosita seemed to be the one who most enjoyed the experience, holding up items to Michonne and Maggie with her head cocked to the side, taking the color and cut for each person present into more consideration than Beth thought was necessary. She was just excited for clean underwear and dry socks. However, eventually she too dug in and found a couple of plain, solid colored t-shirts, two pairs of jeans, a thick, dark grey sweater that tied at the waist, and an olive colored parka with large pockets and a hood she figured would come in handy in the colder months ahead.

When she was sure the others were distracted she slipped away, moving to the other side of the garage where the men's clothes sat in their clear, dusty bins. She trailed her fingers along the plastic tubs until she found what she hoped were the right sizes, sliding them off the shelf and picking quickly through the folded items inside. Tucking the items she grabbed discreetly between a pair of pants and the shirts she had chosen for herself, she made her way over to Sarah.

Sarah marked her place in her book as Beth approached and pulled a small notebook out of her front pocket with one hand and a pen out of her hair with the other. Beth smiled awkwardly and listed the items she had in her possession out loud. When she got to the pile of men's clothes she lowered her voice and leaned closer to Sarah.

"These are for Daryl Dixon," she said, unable to keep her cheeks from flushing as she met the woman's eye. Sarah said nothing but gave her a small smile that said she understood and recorded her purchases in a clear and perfect hand. She reached down beside her and pulled out a small, wrinkled paper bag with a rip near the handle, holding it open for Beth to place her clothes inside. She gave another smile Beth took as a farewell gesture and then quietly returned to her book.

* * *

The peaceful hum of the outdoors Daryl had been drowning in was suddenly interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching from behind. He shot a glance through the vertical slats over his shoulder to see Beth walking briskly towards him alone with her arms crossed loosely over her chest. A small, wrinkled paper bag dangled from her fingers. She caught him looking and shot him a hesitant smile as she climbed the porch steps.

She looked different with her hair hanging in loose waves over her shoulders, all shiny and clean. Her cheeks were rosy from the walk and he could smell the subtle, clean scent of the soap she'd used. He wondered how something that didn't really smell like anything could make him so lightheaded.

"Back so soon?" He asked gruffly.

She crossed the porch quickly, making a face as she slid down beside him. "I told Maggie my head hurt."

"Does it?"

She chuckled and shook her head, grazing her fingertips over the scar that started just before her hairline and extended back over her ear. Soft blond hair had started to grow in the spaces where they had shaved her head, already working to cover the angry red line she mostly kept hidden under the longer waves of her hair.

"It's my get out of jail free card. For the time being anyway."

He smirked. People didn't give Beth enough credit. The girl could be crafty when she wanted to be.

"Well, what'd you think?" He asked, trying to sound bored and disinterested even though he was eager to know what her impression of the place was.

She shrugged. "It's nice. Pretty. The people are very friendly."

"Yeah, I noticed."

"Most of them have been here since the beginning," she said with raised eyebrows, a trace of awe in her voice. He couldn't tell if she thought this was impressive or ridiculous.

"Then they don't know shit about protectin' themselves," he muttered, picking intently at a splinter in the porch floor.

"I think that's why we're here," Beth said. "The way people looked at us today… it's like they're scared but also incredibly relieved. I think Deanna expects us to teach them how to… be like us."

This revelation hardly surprised Daryl. It didn't take a genius to see how woefully unprepared Deanna and her community were for just about everything. And Aaron had said bringing them to Alexandria was as much about saving them as it was saving those already in the community.

"Yeah," he muttered. "We'll see."

"I got you some things," she said in the pause that followed, reaching over with the small paper bag dangling from two fingers.

He took the bag from her warily, frowning as he peeked inside. "Clothes?"

She nodded, a rosy tint that had nothing to do with exercise spreading across her cheeks. "I knew you wouldn't go get new ones for yourself. You don't have to wear them, obviously… but there are practical things in there too. Things I… well, things I thought you might need."

He chewed his lip thoughtfully for a moment unsure of how to navigate this new territory. He held the bag on his lap, both hands barely touching the sides as if it were a breakable, volatile object.

"Thanks," he said finally.

She bumped his arm gently with her elbow, an excited smile blooming across her face despite his lack of enthusiasm. "There's a surprise in the bottom." He gave her a bemused look that he hoped conveyed his doubts. "No, seriously! Just look."

Slowly he re-opened the bag and dug through it, the paper crinkling and rustling loudly as he moved aside folded shirts, pants, and socks all in blacks, browns, and dark greys. He had to hand it to her; as strange as it made him feel she'd grabbed things he would wear. But he sincerely doubted there was a single thing she could have found in this place that he would consider surprise worthy.

Until of course he found them, hiding underneath a pair of boxer shorts. He paused and turned his head slowly to look at her with a half-smile already forming on his lips.

"How in the hell…?"

Beth's grin widened and he pulled his hand out of the bag, fingers wrapped around the bundle of six perfect cigarettes she'd tied together with one of her hair ties. He turned them over in his hand, cradled them in his palm, ran them briefly under his nose.

"They're not menthol," she said quickly.

He snorted. Of course Beth Greene would remember something as insignificant as the fact that he didn't smoke menthols, and of course it would make his insides feel like they'd just taken a spin on a carnival tilt-a-whirl without the rest of him.

"Where'd you get 'em?"

Beth's blush deepened. "I found them."

"You _found_ exactly six cigarettes? Just… lyin' around."

She raised her eyebrows and jutted her chin at him in playful defiance. "Yes. And I was going to leave them there because, after all, I don't smoke. But then I thought you know who _does_ smoke? My friend Daryl. My friend Daryl would _love_ these cigarettes. And seeing as how they were just lying there, menthol-less and definitely not poorly hidden under a bench by the pond that I passed on my way home, I figured why the hell not."

Daryl smiled, spinning the bundle with both hands. "Beth Greene… cigarette thief. Who would've thought?"

"I like to think I'm more of a borrower than a thief," she said brightly.

"You and every other thief that ever lived."

The sound of her laughter was interrupted by an echoing thud that repeated itself on the street behind them. They both turned their heads in time to see a dirty soccer ball bouncing past them, its hops growing smaller and smaller before rolling to a stop at the curb just past their house. There was a sudden blur of red as a young man jogged after it, the rubber soles of his tennis shoes thwacking against the pavement. He saw Daryl and Beth watching him when he turned around and gave a friendly wave which Beth accepted with a smile and Daryl steadfastly did not return. The man ran back toward his friends and in the receding sound of his footsteps Daryl could hear Deanna's voice.

 _Daryl… do you want to be here?_

He began unconsciously picking at the splinter beside his knee again, suddenly annoyed that these people had the time and energy to run around playing soccer all the time. He could feel Beth watching him, the weight of her gaze so distinct he was pretty sure he'd be able to find her in the most crowded of rooms.

"Daryl," she asked finally, "are you alright?"

When he looked up all evidence of her earlier joking and lighthearted banter had vanished, the mischievous sparkle in her eyes replaced by obvious worry. He could list on less than one hand the number of people who had looked at him like that in his life, and that Beth was the one doing it now made him feel twisted up with both guilt and appreciation.

He wanted to tell her. About his interview and the stupid questions he couldn't get out of his head; that this place made him uncomfortable in a way he couldn't explain. He wanted to confess out loud that he didn't know if he could _do_ this no matter how badly he or the others wanted him to. After a moment he simply nodded.

"'m fine."

Her hands were clasped loosely on her lap. Chewing the inside of his lip he reached for her left hand, turning her arm so her palm faced upward. Her breath hitched as he slowly brushed one finger across the blue of her veins, following their path down her arm until they disappeared and then trailing it back towards the base of her hand.

She turned slightly, reaching for his face with her other hand. Her fingers trailed lightly down his jaw.

"I missed you," she whispered roughly.

"I didn't go anywhere," he attempted to joke, knowing even as he said it that it wasn't entirely true.

She lifted her eyes to his and shot him a beseeching half-smile. "Yes you did."

Kissing her in that house had both filled him with happiness so raw it almost hurt and re-awoken years of doubt and self-loathing that filled up every rational and emotional part of him until there was no space for even the thought of her. He wanted to explain, but something about the way she was looking at him made him think she already knew and that she understood. Before he could second guess himself he leaned forward and kissed her, the cool paper tubes of the cigarettes trapped between his fingers and her cheek.

It was different than the first time; a little less awkward, a little more desperate. He moved his lips against hers, losing himself in the scent and feel of her under his hands, and when she slipped her tongue into his mouth he briefly worried his head would explode. Want and need formed a tight knot in his stomach and he kissed her harder, suddenly wishing they were anywhere but outside on the front porch.

A cheer rose up from down the street and broke through the bubble of quiet the kiss had built up around them. Daryl pulled slowly away. Beth sighed and rested her forehead against his as his hand curved around the back of her neck, holding her there against him.

"Thanks for the cigarettes," he said quietly, the words taking on a muffled quality as his heart continued to pound in his ears. It wasn't what he meant, and it wasn't near enough. But at the moment it was all he could say.

Beth laughed weakly, her breath a puff of warm air against his face. She reached up and squeezed his wrist and whispered back, "You're welcome."

* * *

 **Obviously any conversation above that took place in the actual show does not belong to me. Don't sue me.**

 **I received a review the other day that said they hoped my story wasn't just the show with Beth mixed in, and contrary to what this chapter might suggest I have not planned it out that way. Hopefully you all will find it enjoyable regardless (: (: and as always thanks for your patience and your sweet reviews and for sticking with the story despite my less-than timely updates.**

 **xo, kaitiebee**


	20. Home

Beth spent the next morning singing and playing with Judith in the living room. She'd offered primarily so she had an excuse for the absurdly wide and admittedly goofy grin plastered across her face. No one questioned the faces a person made when they were attempting to entertain a toddler, and seeing as how she couldn't seem to make it go away she figured it was as good of a cover as any.

It was all Daryl's fault. She knew it was probably stupid—not to mention dangerous and a little imprudent—to have her mind filled with nothing but him when the world was consistently grim and their place in this new one was precarious at best. But she couldn't help it. He took up every ounce of space in her brain, the mere memory of their moments together making her feel as if she'd sucked down countless jars of moonshine.

She had just fed the baby and was in the middle of an Itsy-Bitsy Spider performance—which Judith was watching with round, fascinated eyes—when the front door opened and Carol entered with Carl in tow. Carol headed straight for the kitchen, muttering something about a casserole and looking determined, but Carl joined Beth and his sister.

Flopping onto the couch he adjusted the brim of his hat and said, "Did you hear? Deanna's throwing us a welcome party at her house tonight."

"A party? As in… a _party_?" The word felt tough and sticky as a molasses chew on her tongue.

Carl shrugged. "Guess so. My dad wants us all to be there."

Beth handed Judith the remote control for the TV to play with and pulled her warm body into her lap. "Well. I guess that's a nice thing for her to do," she said gamely. "Is everyone in town coming?"

"I think so."

Her cheeks twitched with an involuntary grimace. She didn't know if she was ready for what was sure to be a night of endless introductions and tight, faux-cheery smiles for the benefit of who knew how many strangers. Turning back to Carl she said, "You'll have to introduce me to your new friends."

"They're not my friends."

"What are their names again?" Beth asked, pretending as if she hadn't heard him. "Ron, Mike, and… Esther?"

"Enid," Carl muttered, tucking his chin into his chest in a way that made Beth smirk. _Not my friends my ass._

So later, as the sun set outside her window, Beth got ready to go to a party. She put on a pair of her new jeans and a plain black t-shirt. She let down her hair and brushed it, arranging it just so over the left side of her face to hide the jagged scar and the short, bristly hair that had begun to grow around it. She even pinched the apples of her cheeks to give her pale skin some color. The overall look was hardly glamorous but she looked respectable and clean, and she figured that would have to do.

And yet she stood in front of the mirror long after most of the others had left, feeling as if roots had sprouted from the soles of her feet into the dark floorboards. She knew Tara and Eugene were downstairs waiting for her to walk over with them, and as she re-tied the belt of her sweater around her waist for the third time she felt a hot ball of frustration bloom in her chest. She could primp and flatter and retie her belt all night long. It wouldn't make a difference because the problem was something that couldn't be rearranged as easily as her hair or changed like a t-shirt.

Her fingertips ran across the dark pink slash above her eyebrow and she glared helplessly at the ones on her cheek and temple. It was stupid. She knew it was stupid. But she was afraid of a night of pointed look-aways, of seeing the unspoken question in people's eyes as they talked to her and actively avoided looking at the scars.

Truthfully it wasn't the scars that she minded as much as the fact that every time she looked at them all she could see was the place and the woman who had put them there. She could keep pretending like she had left both the hospital and the events that had transpired there in the past, but she hadn't. The evidence was slashed across her face, a permanent part of her for everyone to see. And tonight everyone _would_ see.

Through the haze of worry Beth suddenly felt eyes on her back. She looked away from her own face to see Daryl in the mirror, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed tightly against his chest and watching her from across the room. With his dark clothes it appeared as if he were materializing out of the hallway like a half-formed specter, parts of his body melding completely into the shadows behind him. It was hard to tell, but she thought he looked a little worried.

She didn't know how long he'd been standing there, but she knew he understood. That he could read the kinds of thoughts currently running through her mind as easily as if she'd confessed them aloud, a notion that both thrilled and embarrassed her.

"I don't know," she said lightly, dropping her fingers from her forehead. "I think they make me look kind of badass. Don't you think?"

Daryl walked slowly across the room, stepping up behind her and gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She reached up with both hands and held on, breathing in the sweat and sunshine smell of his skin. For a minute he merely held her there against him, not saying a word. Then he planted a lingering kiss on the crown of her head and she felt the hot ball of frustration in her chest transform into a hot ball of something much stronger and a lot more pleasant. Its glow radiated through her limbs, loosening the tight threads of anxiety inside her and she leaned back against him with a sigh.

She was thinking it wouldn't be bad to spend her evening right there in his arms instead when suddenly Tara's voice hollered up the stairs.

"Beth? Are you almost ready? Eugene's hungry and you know if I don't feed him now it'll throw off his schedule and I'll never get him to go to sleep."

Beth chuckled in spite of herself and yelled that she'd be right down. With a last glance at their reflections she slowly pulled out of Daryl's embrace and made her way towards the door, immediately missing the weight and warmth of him around her. She entered the hallway and made it down two steps before she realized she was alone and turned back to see Daryl standing still in the space just outside her door.

"Aren't you coming?"

Daryl shook his head. "I ain't big on parties."

Beth swallowed the sudden lump of disappointment in her throat. She had correctly assumed that of all of them Daryl would be the one who least appreciated the gesture that was this party. But still she'd hoped he would come, even if he did nothing but sit in a corner all night long and glower at everybody. And although it was selfish, she couldn't help but think how much easier it would be for her if he were there.

"Are you sure?"

He nodded looking a little wary, almost as if he were expecting her to fight with him about it.

"Okay," she said, nodding and smiling up at him. "I guess I'll see you later then."

She felt his eyes follow her down the stairs and tried not to feel as if she were betraying him by leaving him behind.

* * *

Deanna's house glowed with welcome, lit up as it was with soft, warm light. Music played delicately over the buzz of laughter and conversation and was peppered with the sounds of glasses and bottles clinking. Everything about it was normal and peaceful. In fact it looked so much like a snapshot of before that it made Beth's breath catch. For a minute she stood stiffly with Tara and Eugene in the foyer taking it all in. Then Tara saw the table of booze and smiled, taking Eugene's arm and steering him towards it muttering something about dumbing him down with a beer or two and leaving Beth alone.

The anxiety was back in full force and she looked around the room for a familiar face. Carl was in the corner playing cards with the two boys his age. One was named Ron and the other was Mike although she couldn't remember which one was which. The three of them had dragged their chairs together and were using their legs as an improvised tabletop.

She saw Carol in a flowered shirt and cardigan smiling vacantly at something a woman talking wildly with her hands was saying to her near the dining room. Michonne and Rick were listening to a blonde man and woman by the book shelves, standing close together and holding tightly onto glasses of amber liquid. Her eyes landed on her sister and Glenn standing near the fireplace in the living room chatting with several strangers. The tension in their body language was obvious even from across the room, but Beth could see in their attempted smiles and nods that they were trying to enjoy themselves.

If they could try, so could she.

She was about to join them when Deanna suddenly appeared in front of her, simultaneously greeting and dragging her across the room towards the kitchen where a group of men stood talking. Deanna introduced them one by one as her husband Reg, her two grown sons Spencer and Aidan, and Aidan's friend Nicholas who Beth recognized as the man pulling gate duty when they arrived.

Reg and Spencer were both tall and spoke with low, gentle voices. She could tell they were the kind of men who got along with everyone, instantly charming in an honest, forthright kind of way.

Aidan and Nicholas didn't look much older than her. They were handsome and carried themselves in a way that suggested they knew it, an undeniable smugness in their smiles that Beth instantly disliked even though they were polite and friendly enough as they shook her hand and asked how she liked Alexandria so far.

After the introductions had been made Beth accepted a glass of garnet colored wine from Reg. Having never had wine before she took a self-conscious sip, trying not to blush at the undivided attention she was being given by five total strangers as she did so. The wine was tart and bitter on her tongue, sucking the moisture from her mouth the moment she swallowed. She had expected it to be much sweeter and fought the urge to grimace.

"The wine's a little dry," Reg said apologetically, noting the look on her face.

Beth had never understood what that meant. She shook her head. "No, it's… good. Well, honestly I don't know if it's any good or not. I don't know anything about wine."

Her audience chuckled.

"I'm not much of a fan myself," Reg said, lifting his glass and giving the inch of honey colored liquid inside a swirl. "I much prefer a good glass of whiskey."

Aidan and Nicholas each took another swig from their beers and Spencer began telling a story about the time he confused his apple juice with Reg's whiskey as a child. Beth listened politely, taking tiny sips of her wine and trying to remain interested. Luckily Deanna and Reg were happy to carry the conversation, speaking in such a way that included her while requiring little input or participation on her end.

An hour later Beth was two glasses of wine in and feeling much more relaxed. The wine, although sharp and sour, had drizzled its way into her chest and pulled apart the knot of apprehension that sat there. The din of the party, which at first had felt jarring and overwhelming, had softened to a dull, pleasant hum in her ears. Her skin felt warm and tingly and the effort to smile became less and less trying. She even felt good enough to stand beside her sister, whose whole face lit up with a surprised smile when she did so.

She was standing in a clump with Maggie, Glenn, Rosita, and Abraham listening to Tara tell an entertaining story about her time in the Police Academy when she happened to glance across the room and accidentally lock eyes with Deanna. Immediately she began moving across the room, this time with an elderly woman in tow. Beth took a big gulp of her wine, bracing herself for another introduction.

"Having fun?" Deanna asked with a confident smile that seemed to allow for no other answer but yes. Beth nodded wondering if it was obvious to both of the women standing in front of her how numb her lips felt. Deanna placed a hand lightly on her arm and gestured to her companion. "Beth, I'd like you to meet Rose Kipsey."

Beth smiled with her half-numb lips, taking the hand the woman offered and shaking it. Her caramel colored skin was dry and papery, the fingers gnarled as tree roots from arthritis.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Beth," Rose said.

"Rose is one of our teachers," Deanna explained. "She works with the little ones every morning. And without coffee too, God bless her."

Rose laughed. "Who knew the end of the world would be the thing that brought me out of retirement?"

"You were a teacher before?" Beth asked.

Rose began fiddling with a delicate gold crucifix resting between her collar bones and nodded. "Oh yes. I taught second grade for over thirty years in Richmond."

"That must have been lovely."

"It certainly had its moments," Rose chuckled. She had a full, slightly raspy laugh that Beth found very pleasant. "But it was wonderful. Some of my happiest memories come from teaching and the students I had. I was only retired about two years before everything happened, but truthfully I missed it every day. When Deanna asked me to help start up a school I was more than happy to help, and it's proven to be a blessing in so much darkness."

The woman's chocolate brown eyes began to water and Beth placed a hand on her arm. "I'm sure this place could say the same about you," she said.

Rose dabbed at her eyes with the cuff of her sweater and shot a glowing smile at Deanna. "You said she was charming but I had no idea she'd be _this_ charming." Beth felt her cheeks flame, both at the compliment and the impression that Deanna had been talking about her with others.

"I never lie," Deanna said, placing her hand over her heart in a jokingly dramatic way. She took a sip of her drink and added to Beth, "And although it's true we couldn't have done it without her, Rose is actually thinking about stepping down from her position."

"Oh I'm sorry," Beth replied awkwardly, unsure of what an appropriate response was.

Rose waved away her apology. "Don't be sorry, dear. It's just that I'm an old, old lady. I don't have the energy to keep up with little kids anymore, not to mention my arthritis is something awful nowadays. Holding a pen or pencil is getting to be near impossible. No, it's time for this old crone to gimp back into retirement, whatever that looks like."

"Who will be taking over for you?" Beth asked. "Is the other teacher planning to take on the little kids?"

Rose and Deanna shared a conspiratorial look making Beth feel as if she were on the wrong end of a secret. Deanna raised her eyebrows and smiled.

"I was wondering if maybe you would be interested."

Beth felt lightheaded with surprise and took another sip of her rapidly diminishing third glass of wine to buy some time before she had to respond. Finally she said, "But I thought you and I talked about me working with the crops crew in the spring?"

Every Alexandrian had some kind of job or task that benefitted the community and helped it run smoothly, and upon their arrival Deanna had assigned each member of the group one. Her sister, for example, was to work alongside Deanna in a governing role while others had been assigned jobs ranging from construction and security to working in the food pantry or motor pool. Just that morning Rick and Michonne had been given the title of Constable, becoming Alexandria's first police force.

Deanna had suggested to Beth that with her farming background she would make a good addition to the as-of-yet nonexistent crops crew. Beth had been looking forward to it, finding the idea of farming and gardening all day in the sun surprisingly appealing.

But now she wanted her to teach? Beth couldn't _teach_. She had no training. She hadn't even finished high school.

"So you do both," Deanna said with ease. "The younger kids only meet for a few hours every morning. You could spend that time with them and your afternoons with the crops crew."

Beth suddenly wished she hadn't had so much wine. The fuzzy, floating warmth she'd been appreciating only minutes ago was making it incredibly difficult to think straight. Deanna seemed to realize she'd caught her off guard and gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

"Take some time to think it over," she said. "We can talk about it more if you'd like tomorrow." Before she could blink Rose was waving goodbye and her and Deanna melded back into the crowd.

Maggie leaned over. "What was that about?"

Beth threw back the last burgundy dribbles of wine and shrugged.

"It was nothing."

* * *

Beth left the party early, slipping quietly out the front door without a word to anyone. She felt dizzy from the wine and the forced joviality and endless introductions. The quiet was delicious and the night air cool and refreshing on her flushed skin. She took her time walking back.

Deanna's proposition consumed her foggy brain, and the harder she tried to ignore it the more space it seemed to take up. Beth didn't understand Deanna's blind faith in her or her abilities, not to mention being handed so much responsibility was intimidating and frightening. What if she couldn't do it? What if the person she was now turned out to be the exact opposite of what those kids needed? She loved kids and she knew the old Beth would have made a fantastic teacher. But now? Now she was someone very different.

Perhaps the thing that frightened her most was the knowledge that taking the job would solidify her status as a member of the community. It would mean she wanted to stay.

She turned onto her street and stared at the wall in the distance, its patchwork body rising up out of the dirt and trailing the light of the moon along its edges like a silver ribbon. It was strange trying to imagine a permanent life behind it. Until that moment she hadn't truly believed it was possible, certain deep down that she and her family had seen and suffered too much to ever fully commit to a place like Alexandria. A place not wholly their own. But for the first time in a long time doors of opportunity were squeaking open and it seemed both foolish and wasteful to turn her back on them.

Beth made her way to the end of the street and climbed the porch steps of the grey house slowly. The house loomed above her dark and still, and the sound of the door slamming shut behind her echoed throughout the empty rooms like a crack of thunder. She leaned back against the door, feeling the quiet settle on her skin and listening to the sound of her own heartbeat thudding in her ears.

Home _,_ she whispered, testing out the word.

 _Home_.

Desperately thirsty she headed towards the kitchen for a glass of water. In the pearly light streaming through the front windows she caught sight of Daryl as she passed by, sitting on the couch and smoking a cigarette. She could tell he'd been there a while based on the wisps of smoke that floated across the room like clouds, shimmering in the dim light. As she rounded the couch to join him she noticed he'd put on a black button down shirt under his vest and a clean pair of pants, both of which she'd brought him from Sarah's.

"How was the party?" He asked as she plopped down heavily beside him.

Beth leaned back against the cushions with a heavy sigh, faces of people she'd met and the conversations she'd had flashing through her mind in a continuous blur. She shrugged. "It was… something."

Daryl nodded as if her vagueness was exactly the answer he'd expected and took a deep drag of his cigarette.

"I think you might've not hated it," she added, ignoring his narrowed eyes and disbelieving scoff. "They had booze, anyway."

He glanced over at her with slightly raised eyebrows as if to suggest no amount of booze would have helped. She thought back to the last time they'd drank together, how the moonshine had stripped his already touchy pride raw until he lashed out in a whirl of hurt and anger, and thought that perhaps it was a good thing that he'd stayed home.

Nudging him with her elbow she asked, "Clothes fit ok?"

He bobbed his head once, a terse acknowledgement Beth understood stemmed from a shyness he would rather die than admit to. She reached over and slipped her hand in his.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"For trying."

He glanced down at his lap, refuting her with a softer shake of his head. "I didn't do nothin'."

"Yes you did," she whispered, wanting to make him see how much it meant to her that he'd tried. It didn't matter if he'd done it for her, himself, or the group as a whole, nor did it matter that he hadn't actually made it to the party. That he had even bothered to get dressed was gesture enough for her, and it gave her hope that he could be here. That maybe he wanted to stay too.

Daryl looked back at her with eyes that smoldered in the dark like dying embers. She felt a glowing in her chest, hot and radiant as the sun, and she wasn't confident it had anything to do with the wine. Beth climbed over his lap in a burst of movement and plucked the cigarette from his fingers, putting what was left of it out on the pretty ceramic coaster he was using as a makeshift ashtray. Then before he could protest she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him hungrily.

Surprised as he was by the turn of events he kissed her back immediately. His warm hands splayed across her back, and she couldn't help but grin against his mouth when they pulled her closer.

"You're drunk," he said quietly between kisses, his blunt delivery softened by obvious amusement.

He wasn't wrong. She _was_ drunk. Although she hoped pointing this out to her was a comment on her brazenness and had nothing whatsoever to do with sloppiness. She pulled slightly away, her mouth turning up in a teasing half-smile.

"That bodes well for you, doesn't it?"

Daryl's mouth was on hers again like a shot, and if it hadn't suddenly felt so good and so intensely serious she would have laughed at his eagerness. Beth slid her hand up the back of his neck, weaving her fingers through his hair while the other grazed across the hard muscles of his shoulders. Minutes passed by unaccounted for, the world around her fading into a fog where nothing and no one else existed. She lost herself in the salt and smoky taste of him, distinctly aware of everyplace their bodies touched and relishing the trails of fire his hands burned into her skin as they traveled down her back and over the tops of her thighs.

Kissing Daryl made her feel full and vibrant with life, and the more he touched her the more she craved. Behind her closed eyelids she felt the fog thicken with her growing want, the exhilarating need to feel his hands and mouth on every part of her reaching a level she'd never felt with anyone else. High on emotion and instinct she sank into him, grinding slowly against his lap.

Daryl pulled abruptly away with a groan, throwing his head back against the couch cushions. His hands tightened around her hips holding her in place and forbidding an escape.

"You're killin' me Greene," he growled, although it didn't sound to her as if this was something he minded in the slightest.

Beth rested her forehead heavily against his shoulder, taking a moment to come down from the heady fog and catch her breath. She could feel his heart beating against her palms, the steady, powerful thud reverberating through the solidness of his chest and up through her fingertips. It was almost impossible to believe that she, Beth Greene, had done that to him. That she could make his heart race and his breathing ragged and pull him towards an edge of lost control.

When she felt some semblance of her own control come back to her, Beth sat up and grabbed his face with both hands. Gently she tilted it back towards hers until his lips were a hair's breadth away from her own. She could feel the pulse in his neck quicken again and even though she wanted nothing more than to kiss him again she merely grinned down at him.

"I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Daryl smirked, a low, solitary chuckle bubbling up out of his chest. "Sweet talkin' really ain't my thing either."

He reached up and slowly brushed aside the hair that had fallen over the sides of her face like a curtain, the rough edge of his thumb moving across her temple and along the jagged scar as he tucked it back behind her ear. He handled her so carefully and with a tenderness she knew few people ever got to see. And he did so, not because he thought she might break, but simply because he cared. The edges of the wanting fog crept towards her once more and she suppressed a shiver, thinking it was silly to be proud of what she did to him when he had an even stronger effect on her.

A moment later he dropped his hand and jerked his head toward the front windows.

"They'll be gettin' back soon," he said. His face betrayed nothing but it didn't need to. She could hear the disappointment in his voice. Reluctantly she climbed off of his lap and situated herself beside him, draping his arm across her shoulders as she curled into his side. The room felt different somehow, as if the house had taken a great, shuddering breath and shaken their surroundings loose. But under her ear Daryl's heart beat steadily away, consistent and familiar, the sound sending currents of contentment coursing through her.

"Home,"she whispered again.

"What?" Daryl asked. Beth merely snuggled closer, smiling into his chest as she closed her eyes, praying that everyone would stay away a little longer.

"Nothing," she said a little louder. "I'm just happy to be home."

* * *

Let me know what you think!

Millions of grateful, non creepy x's and o's, kaitiebee


	21. In the Woods

The world spun on, turning their days behind Alexandria's gates into a full week. Daryl kept mostly to himself, preferring to spend his days out in the woods surrounding the community. Deanna still hadn't given him a job—not that he particularly wanted one—and after a cursory look at the sorry state of the food pantry he'd set out to hunt, entirely unwilling to see his family go hungry because the people in charge liked to throw parties instead of restocking the shelves.

He hadn't meant for it to turn into an all day, every day chore. But it was so much easier to breathe outside of the walls and amongst the wild, unpredictability of nature. He walked around feeling as if he'd broken free from an invisible chain, too relieved to have found a piece of himself in this place to worry about the potential dangers lurking in the shadows.

That morning—their seventh in Alexandria—he had been up before dawn, pushing roughly past the irritatingly chipper gate guard who tried to engage him in conversation and disappearing into the silent trees. On his way home the day before he'd stumbled onto the trail of a deer. Based on the size of the footprints he knew it was a buck, and although the tracks were a day-old the animals around Alexandria weren't used to being hunted and would likely return. He was eager to pick up the trail and didn't want to waste time exchanging pleasantries with the guy at the gate.

He discovered fresh tracks about half a mile into his hunt and followed them carefully through the chilly woods all morning. But the deer eluded him, and by the time he lost the trail it was midday, he was hungry, thirsty, and overwhelmingly frustrated at having wasted an entire morning. Deciding he'd had enough for the time being he slid his bow off of his shoulders and sat heavily down on the ground beside the rough, rounded edge of a fallen tree. From his chest pocket he pulled out a solitary cigarette and a lighter, lighting it and taking a deep drag before leaning back against the hollowed log.

Overhead the late afternoon sun glowed in a blue sky dotted with large, puffy white clouds and bathed the forest in a muted golden light. A carpet of shriveled brown leaves covered the forest floor, the plants and trees baring their mostly empty branches up into the sky like reaching hands. The days were growing shorter and colder, but for now the air, crisp and heavy with the scent of natural decay, filled his lungs with fall. He wondered if Beth might like to come out hunting with him before winter fell, deciding he'd ask her when he saw her later that night.

Since the night of the party the two of them had fallen quickly into a routine, spending their days apart and their nights together. Neither offered much information on how they spent their days, preferring to talk about things that had nothing to do with Alexandria if they talked at all. He was aware that she had been spending a lot of time at the school, and he had seen her in the company of an elderly black woman he thought was one of the teachers.

Alexandria seemed to agree with Beth, certainly more than she had expected it to. And although there were times he could see a glimmer of unprecedented fear in her eyes when she gazed up at the wall or was forced into a crowd of any kind, her eyes had regained their brightness and her outlook had improved.

Not far ahead from where he sat a single walker appeared, a dark, halting shape weaving through the trees. Daryl didn't make a sound but it set its sights on him anyway, kicking up clumps of dry leaves with its hurried, jerking steps as it altered its path and made a beeline for him. Sighing Daryl tucked his cigarette in the corner of his lips and reached for his crossbow, raising it with slow and unhurried movements at the walker's decrepit face. Its growls grew louder and more excited but he let it amble closer, waiting until it was only a few yards away before firing an arrow into its soft grey skull.

With a satisfying thud the walker crumpled to the ground and in the abrupt absence of its hungry hissing the quiet of the forest felt amped up. Daryl set his bow down beside him and returned calmly to his cigarette, staring at the crumpled walker and the arrow protruding skywards from its forehead. It had been a man before it reanimated into the thing it now was, a full head of silvery hair still visible atop its broad shoulders and thick, tree trunk like limbs. Daryl thought rather bitterly that the walker resembled Joe, the leader of the Claimers, a fact that only made its second death at his hands more satisfying. When he came to its end, he ground out the cigarette on the log he leaned against and pushed slowly to his feet. Like it or not, it was getting time to return to Alexandria and he still had work to do.

Earlier in the week he had made and set traps for smaller game, placing them about a mile out from the gates at random intervals. He stopped at each on his way back, pleased to find he'd managed to snare three rabbits since the day before. He shoved them in the canvas bag he'd found in the garage and slung across his back, his mouth already watering at the thought of rabbit stew.

The last trap hung limply from the sapling he'd tied it to, however, no doubt broken by a larger animal or a careless, shuffling walker before it could catch anything. Daryl dropped the game bag beside him and crouched down to retie the noose. He hadn't been working on it thirty seconds when the brush rustled and snapped behind him. The absence of hissing and rotting smell ruled out a walker, and as no animal in its right mind would be approaching him in the daylight the footsteps could only belong to a human. Abandoning the trap Daryl whirled around to face his potential assailant as the steps grew steadily louder, his finger poised over the trigger of his raised bow.

But it was only Carol who came marching out of the trees. She paused mid-step when she noticed the bow being pointed at her. However, she merely raised her eyebrows and continued towards him.

"Little warning next time," he growled, dropping his bow to his side.

"Sorry," she said quietly, crossing her arms over her chest. She was wearing another one of her asinine outfits: pressed khakis with a tucked in floral shirt and matching blue cardigan, the top button of which was demurely fastened at her throat. It was as impractical for a romp through the woods as it was unlike her to be wearing, and yet she had been dressing and acting like a kindergarten teacher with a baking problem since the moment they'd walked through the gates. Daryl had yet to figure out the endgame of her helpless mother hen charade, and even though he knew she had to have one all of her simpering smiles were starting to get on his nerves.

There was no such smile upon her face now, however, her mouth held tightly with tension and the grim look she'd taken to wearing in their company sitting like a mask of stone on her face.

"Everything alright?" He asked, wondering at her appearance in the middle of the woods and subsequent silence.

"Everything's fine."

Daryl searched her face through narrowed eyes for a moment before directing his attention back to his broken trap. If indeed she had something to say she would say it when she was ready.

Out of the corner of his eye he watched her take a seat between two large tree roots that split apart like two slithering snakes after casting a wary glance around the surrounding woods for walkers. Once she situated herself she looked over at him and said, "I take it you didn't find the deer."

"Nope."

"Try again tomorrow?"

"Probably."

She nodded slowly but made no move to speak further.

"How'd you know where to find me?" He asked when it became obvious she was in no hurry to talk, peering curiously at her over his shoulder. He'd told the others he'd be hunting out of necessity, but he'd neglected to tell anyone where they could find him specifically so that no one would.

Her lips lifted in a thin, bemused smile as if to say that he couldn't hide from her even if he wished to. "You said you were going hunting and I knew you'd check the traps on your way back. Seeing as how you've made yourself scarce these past few days I figured if I wanted to see you I'd have to try and run into you out here."

Unable to argue with her logic Daryl turned back to the trap. Carol remained quiet, and despite his disappearing acts and the fact he hadn't spoken with her in days he was pleased to find that the silence still as felt comfortable and companionable as it always had. And it remained that way until Carol finally blurted out the real reason she'd followed him into the woods.

"What's going on with you and Beth?"

Daryl jumped, feeling as if he'd just been tazered and the sapling slipped through his fingers. He watched with an unfocused gaze as the thin trunk danced from side to side, its infant branches quivering with excess energy until finally it stood still and erect.

He truly didn't know what to say. Whatever was going on between him and Beth hadn't become a secret on purpose, but the unspoken decision not to tell anyone had been made nonetheless. The fact that neither of them had felt the need to discuss it with each other didn't make finding an answer for Carol any easier either.

Silence fell like a heavy blanket over the pair, and he knew this time it was Carol who would wait patiently until he was ready to speak. So he finished setting the trap, trying to ignore the feeling of her eyes boring holes into his back. When he finished he stood calmly, brushing the dirt from his hands on the knees of his pants and flinging the game bag casually over his shoulder before turning to face her.

"Nothin'," he replied, disliking the way the lie tasted on his tongue.

The expectant look on her face withered. "Don't lie to me," she demanded, a detectable sharpness coloring her teasing tone.

"I ain't."

"Daryl. I saw you."

He blinked. "Where?"

"Two nights ago out by the gazebo. It looked like you were leaving. You had your arm around her."

Daryl cursed inwardly. He'd told Beth the gazebo was a bad idea, that someone would see them. But as he had yet to learn how to say no to anything she requested of him, especially when making out was involved, they'd gone anyway.

He shrugged coolly. "So?"

"So what's going on with you and Beth?"

"We're friends."

"No," she shot back with a shake of her head, drawing out the word in a sing-song way that felt rather patronizing. "You and I are friends. You and Beth are something else entirely."

Daryl worried at his bottom lip, feeling surprisingly embarrassed at being found out. His struggle for words was made worse by the intense heat he could feel flooding his face, the frightening ache of vulnerability and the fact that it was on display for her to see making him tense. If it were anyone else he knew he would have already resorted to lashing out in a foolish attempt to hide from the feelings he didn't care or know how to properly feel. But it was Carol sitting before him, and not only did he not think he had it in him to scream at her, but he knew she wasn't pushing for answers simply to satisfy her own curiosity.

Finally he shrugged, feeling defeated. "We're… it just happened."

Her blue eyes flashed with a momentary softness, the corner of her mouth twitching in a way that he thought in another life would have been an actual smile. She seemed more satisfied than surprised, and he would hazard a guess that she hadn't been all that surprised when she saw them leaving the gazebo either. Daryl kicked at the dirt and sighed.

"You knew, didn't you? Back at the hospital."

Carol pursed her lips in thought. "I suspected something."

"How? _I_ didn't know. Not really."

"It was the way you looked at her. The way you looked _while_ you were looking at her… like your entire world was there lying in that hospital bed." She shrugged, pulling the thin sweater more tightly around her torso. "You were different and I knew it could only be because of her."

Daryl dropped his gaze from her eyes to the ground, thinking that sounded about right.

"It just happened," he said again. He still didn't understand himself _how_ it had happened, only that it had been building since the night they turned the moonshine shack to ash with a flaming stack of one hundred dollar bills.

"Look," Carol started, "it's none of my business, one way or the other…"

"Sounds like you're tryin' pretty hard to make it your business."

Carol glared at him beseechingly. "I just… I just want to make sure that you're careful."

"Stop."

"Oh god, Daryl. Not _that_ kind of careful. You're a grown man… I sincerely hope I don't have to tell you to be careful about that." She shook her head. "I mean I want you to be _careful_. About how close you get. About how far you let this thing go."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Carol sighed and leaned her head back against the trunk of the tree. In the warm sunshine dribbling down through the dying trees he could see the dark circles under her eyes, the deepening lines of strain that curved around her mouth like parentheses. There was anger there, a hardness simmering beneath the surface that hadn't always been a part of her, even after Sophia died. Daryl thought back to Atlanta when the two of them had been running through the decaying streets and buildings looking for Beth. How different she'd seemed then. Colder, more calculating and distant, completely void of any and all hope that there was a chance for them in this world. He wondered sadly when she had become this way and how he had missed it.

She drew her gaze back to him, and whatever glimpse of the old Carol he had managed to see was gone, the walls bricking back together as quickly as they had fallen.

"It means exactly what it sounds like," she said. "The way the world is now… things like this don't happen every day. That you two have managed to find it anyway is a good thing. _It is_. And if being together makes you both happy than I'm happy for you. But just because I'm happy about it doesn't mean others will be. I'm worried you haven't thought that through."

"You mean Maggie." Carol nodded. "Why does it matter if she's happy about it or not? It's none of her business what me and Beth do."

"We're a family, Daryl. Everything any of us does is everyone's business. That's just the way it works."

"You think I'll hurt her."

"No, I think she'll hurt you."

Daryl fought the urge to roll his eyes. Beth wouldn't hurt him. She would never hurt anyone that didn't deserve it.

"Did you really come all the way out here just to tell me that?"

"I'm not saying any of this to upset you, Daryl. I care about the both of you and don't want to see either of you suffering. Especially from pain you brought on yourselves."

"What makes you think there will be pain?"

Carol tilted her head to the side, gazing at him with soft, pitying eyes. "Because there is always pain. Nowadays that's all there is."

There was pain before, he wanted to shout, and good things still happened. Good things like whatever he and Beth had going on happened not just because of the pain but in spite of it. And maybe they didn't usually happen to people like him or Carol, but that shouldn't mean they had to turn their backs on it if it happened to them now.

Daryl thought that she, of all people left alive on their wretched, wasted rock, should already understand that.

But he said nothing, the fight leaking out of him as he stared into her sad and worried face. As misguided as she was, her intentions were born from protectiveness and nothing more. The light had shifted with the coming evening, and the branches above them began to sway as a biting breeze rushed through them. Carol shivered and he stepped forward, holding out his hand to her.

"C'mon," he urged, his voice low. "We should get back."


	22. Horrible Stories

It was late, full dark and its glittering mess of stars having long ago forced sunset and twilight to retire. Both houses at the end of the lane were as dark and still as their community counterparts, their occupants sleeping as peacefully as could rightly be expected.

All occupants, that is, except Beth, who exited her bedroom and moved soundlessly through the dark hallway on stocking feet. She tiptoed down the stairs with her boots tucked under her arm, skipping the second to last one because it creaked and making a wide berth around the boots Carl left scattered like land mines by the front door. She held her breath as she turned the door knob, her muscles tense with the slow and deliberate movements, and when she got the door open a few inches she slipped out onto the porch and into the moonlit night.

The air hit her like a slap, stunning her with its sharp cold. Shivers racked her body as she sat on the top step and shoved her feet into her boots, forgoing quiet and inconspicuous movements in the desire for coverage and warmth. She pulled her jacket more tightly around her before slipping onto the dark street, clouds of moist breath trailing up into the clear night sky like a filmy banner.

Walking unprotected and unarmed through the night was still an uncomfortable feeling for Beth. Logically she knew she was safe, that the walls blocking out the horizon also blocked out the things she needed to protect herself from. But the creeping feeling that around every corner and lurking behind every rustling bush was a flesh-eating monster or group of desperate marauders would not leave her be. Thinking this she pulled her hand from its pocket of warmth and felt for the knife at her belt once more, as if something could have happened to it in the twenty yards since she'd last checked it.

She turned left at the end of the road, walking down it a ways before veering off and skirting underneath the kitchen window of the house where Olivia—the woman who ran the armory and food pantry—lived with her son and two other women named Denise and Holly who Beth had only met in passing. She cut through their backyard to get to the main part of town overlooking the pond, following the circumference of its banks and nearing the wall until she caught sight of the thin, overgrown brick path she was looking for. Trees and unkempt grasses grew up on either side of it, leafless and mostly dead but dense enough to conceal where it led from the main road. Beth followed its rounded, meandering curves farther back into the dark corner, the soles of her boots scuffing loudly along the bricks.

She turned another corner and came upon her final destination, the open, square structure of the gazebo waiting patiently in the dark for her. However it was neither the cold nor the gazebo that quickened her steps or her pulse, but rather the dark figure that waited under its cover, sitting quietly on one of the benches with his elbows perched on his knees. The figure lifted its head at the sound of her footsteps and excitement swelled in her chest.

"Hi," she said quietly as she stepped up into the gazebo. Daryl stood and met her in the middle, his arms opening for her to slip between which she did without breaking her stride. His body was warm under the black canvas jacket he wore but his hands were cold, and when he lifted her chin to kiss her she shivered at the contact.

"Sorry," he said.

Beth laughed, tightening her hold around him. "It's okay. I'm sorry I'm late. Were you waiting long?"

Daryl shook his head, hardly bothered, although she doubted he'd tell her the truth if he had been. She didn't have long to dwell on his honesty because his hands were suddenly moving from her face, trailing down her arms and down to the small of her back where they clasped together, a firm knot of safety against her spine. He didn't smile but she thought he looked happy, and the thought so pleased her that she arched up onto her tip toes and kissed him again.

"We can't do this here," Daryl said against her lips.

"Why not?"

He sighed, the cloud of his breath warm and damp against her cheeks. "Carol saw us."

Beth pulled slightly away in surprise. "She did? How do you know that?"

"She told me this afternoon."

"Well… what'd she say? When did she see us? Did she tell anyone else?"

She had been happy to keep their time alone together a secret for the time being, to have something that felt as good and special as being with Daryl did separate from the stress and general chaos of their day to day lives. For the first time in a long time she had something that was hers alone, and it was going so well. She was afraid that letting the others in would spoil it.

Beth felt the muscles of his back move under her hands as he shrugged, and it took every ounce of will power she had to pull herself away from the thoughts they inspired and stay focused on their conversation.

"She didn't tell anyone else… but she saw us leavin' here a couple nights ago and wondered what was goin' on," Daryl answered. "If we were… you know."

"Together?"

Beth couldn't control the blush that set fire to her cheeks. It was silly to be so embarrassed by a little word, she knew. But saying you were "together" implied other things and gave way to other little words like commitment and boyfriend and she had no idea how to approach having that kind of conversation with someone like Daryl. She wasn't even sure that kind of conversation still existed. With a sigh she slipped slowly out of Daryl's embrace and took several steps backwards towards the bench he had vacated. Daryl followed, automatically lifting his arm and slipping it around her shoulders as he sat down beside her.

"Well I guess you were right about hanging out here," she said dejectedly, the disappointment that they had to leave a place she'd come to think of as theirs souring in her stomach. "There really is no place to hide when you live under a microscope." His exact words had been: "This place has more eyes than a fucking spy ring" but she figured her sentiment was roughly the same.

"It don't matter," he mumbled. "We'll find someplace else."

She leaned her head against his shoulder, curling into the warmth of him as best she could.

"Daryl?" He gave a quiet grunt in response and she tilted her head up to see his face. "Whatever we are, whatever we're doing, it… it wouldn't be a bad thing if the others knew. Would it?"

She braced herself, prepared for an array of responses. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards in the slightest of smiles.

"No," he answered simply.

She leaned her head back against his shoulder, relief and validation sweeping through her like a hot breeze. _He likes me,_ her inner voice sang. _He likes me, he likes me, he likes me!_ "I probably should be the one to tell Maggie though."

Daryl nodded. "Probably. But do me a favor and warn me before you do."

"Why?"

"I'll want to avoid her for a few days. Otherwise I'll end up gettin' myself shot. Or stabbed. Or some other kind of violent, torturous murder."

"Oh stop," Beth laughed. "Maggie's not going to kill you. She loves you."

Daryl made a face expressing his doubts, and Beth felt the slightest twinge of her own disbelief. While a tepid effort had been made on her part to forgive Maggie's betrayal she still wasn't sure where they stood, and with her sister's recent history of extreme over-protectiveness her reaction could run the gamut from violent anger to genuine happiness.

"She might've once, but she'll definitely stop once she finds out I'm doing this to her little sister," Daryl said. He leaned down to kiss her again and all thoughts of her sister vanished. She felt time slow and stretch as it had a habit of doing whenever Daryl touched her. Her pounding heart drowned out the hum of night creatures around them and the feel of his lips moving against hers warmed her from the inside out so that she could barely feel the cold.

Suddenly he pulled away, shaking his head slightly as he rested his forehead on hers.

"Seriously," he said, the husky timbre of his voice vibrating down to her bones. "We've gotta go somewhere else. If only because it's fuckin' freezing out here."

Beth couldn't help but laugh. He had such a way with words.

Now conscious that neither the dark nor their secluded meeting place had helped to keep their secret they left the gazebo and walked through the dark streets without touching, their hands shoved deep in their pockets. Occasionally their elbows would bump, each unintentional brush sending a giddy shiver of happiness down Beth's spine.

They walked around as much of the compound as they dared, purposefully avoiding only their street and the front gate where, thanks to Rick, a permanent, rotating watch had been set up. By now Beth was pretty familiar with Alexandria's layout, having spent enough time during the day walking around it to know where she was without the assistance of daylight. But she hadn't meandered into all of its corners, and as neither of them was ready to call it a night, their walk took them back into a section Beth had never seen before.

It was a fairly empty corner. They headed towards the dead end made by the wall, passing grassy, tree filled lots that might have been yards or—at one time—planned spaces for more housing. A single house stood in the midst of it all, rising up out of the overgrowth and tucked nearly against the wall. Beth came to a stop in front of it and eyed it curiously.

The entrance was guarded by two brick pillars with bulb-less sconces secured to their tops like iron hats, a brick walk leading up to the front porch steps visible between their sturdy frames. It was rather quaint compared to the rest of the houses in the neighborhood, but Beth found the deliberate balance of its condensed design a welcome change to the eco-suburban mini-mansions that all sort of looked alike. A classic chimney peeked out of the corner of the sharply pitched roof, which came down over the front porch and made it look as if the second floor didn't exist. The moon's watery light glistened in the large front windows sitting on either side of the double door, illuminating the worn, white trim.

More than simply dark and quiet the house had an air of disuse about it, its visible windows bare of any kind of curtain or covering and some kind of grass or ivy clinging to the thin porch rails in an unkempt tangle.

"I don't think anyone lives there," Beth said after a moment, eying the moldy crates and mismatched furniture that had been stacked haphazardly on the front porch.

"It's on the edge," Daryl said, "away from the other houses, right on top of the wall. None of these pussies probably _wanted_ to take it."

Beth mulled that over for a moment, deciding he probably wasn't far off. "It looks lonely."

"It's a house," Daryl shot back, his tone suggesting it was preposterous for an inanimate object to _look_ like anything. But Beth ignored him, grinning as the scraps of an idea formed in her head.

"I bet it wouldn't be so lonely if it had some visitors."

"What?" Daryl asked, but she was already walking backwards up the weedy brick path to the front porch and made no reply. Eventually Daryl followed with a heavy sigh, but she caught sight of a soft smirk flickering on his face in the moment before she turned to climb the porch stairs.

The house was in rougher shape up close. The flakes of paint littering the floorboards immediately brought to mind the pastor of her childhood church, who had always been about 100 years old and suffered from a severe case of dandruff, something she'd always found odd considering the man had less than three hairs on his head. Additionally, the porch railing looked rotted through in places and the corner of the roof sagged like one of Judith's full diapers. But despite the grimy windows and spider webs that decorated every spare ledge and corner like melancholy bunting Beth felt embers of excitement burning in her chest. She knew it was strange, but she couldn't help but feel as if behind the neglect and decay was something special, just waiting for them to discover it. The knob turned easily in her hand and she led the way into the house.

Inside wasn't much warmer than out, and in the first breath she took she could smell the sharp scent of cold lingering amidst the overwhelming smells of dust and plastic. Unlike the other houses the walls were bare, and what furniture there was had been covered with white sheets. Tarps, brushes, and cans of paint sat in a jumbled pile in the corner near the fireplace while sheets of clear plastic had been wrapped around light fixtures and droopy blue painter's tape contoured the door and window frames. Whoever had lived there before the turn had clearly been in the process of renovating, and Beth imagined the lack of time or desire to make it livable was the real reason no one currently living in Alexandria had claimed it.

Together they took a silent tour through the chilly grey rooms. Beth was unable to stop herself from fleshing out the bare bones with paint and furniture and picture frames, her mind casually crafting a home from what had been left behind. It was refreshing; normally when she walked through strange houses the ghosts of the former tenants seemed to overpower everything, the impression they'd left making it impossible to see anything else. But this house was different. A completely blank slate she took the liberty of making beautiful, if only in her mind.

Before long they'd circled through the first floor and come back to the living room. Beth glanced up the stairs and shot another smile back at Daryl.

"What're you doin'?" He asked as she began climbing them.

"Exploring," she called over her shoulder. She told herself it didn't matter if he followed or not, that she wanted to see the second floor regardless of his willingness to continue participating in her little game. But his steps followed behind her and she smiled happily to herself.

The upstairs appeared more complete, the walls painted smooth and the furniture free from any kind of covering. The doors were open and Beth peered into each one: the bedroom at the end of the hall and the bathroom that flanked it plus the spare room that had been converted into an office and still had books on its bookshelves. At the opposite end of the hall was an unfinished room whose ceiling followed the sharp upward slopes of the roof, a feature that made the room seem larger and grander. Still, it was chilly and empty and Beth would have ignored it and concluded her self-guided tour had it not been for the view.

Six tall rectangular windows took up the entire right wall, stacked on top of each other in two rows and angled with the roof's pitch. Their positioning combined with the house's proximity to the wall made it appear as though square swathes of sparkling velvet sky had been cut out and nailed to the wall. The surprising beauty of it made her breath catch and she stepped inside, walking with hushed steps closer to the skylights.

"Is it weird they look closer from here then they do out there?" Beth said to Daryl in a hushed voice; it felt wrong to do anything but whisper.

"Not at all," he said, crossing his arms across his chest as he gazed upwards alongside her.

Beth promptly sat down on the bare floor and leaned back on her hands. She invited him to join her with several quick pats on the floor beside her hip and a suggestive smile that made him chuckle.

"You know I've never understood why people call it the _man_ in the moon," she said, eying the pearly face balancing at the base of the top middle window. "Clearly the moon is a woman."

Daryl snorted softly, stretching out his legs in front of him as he settled in beside her. "You think?"

"I do."

She softened her gaze, letting the face she'd stared up at since she was a child rise from the caverns and craters of the moon's surface. First came the pouty lips, then the rounded snub nose, then finally the large, pleading eyes that looked ringed with mascara tears.

"My mom used to tell me this story about how the moon was a goddess that the sun fell madly in love with," Beth said. "He caught a glimpse of her one day at dawn, but before he could say anything to her she disappeared over the horizon. He made it his mission to find her and chased her across the skies, spreading his light and warmth on the ground below trying desperately to find her.

"One day he finally caught up with her. She was waiting for him in the middle of the sky, tired of the chase, tired of being alone, tired of the responsibilities that had been thrust upon her. And for a while they were inseparable, blissfully happy at having finally found one another. But the seas were still and lifeless and in the darkness nothing would grow. The people on Earth begged them to resume their duties, and they did so reluctantly—because they were neither selfish nor cruel—on the condition that they could be allowed to see each other once a year. And even though they missed each other terribly, the moon grew round and full until one day she gave birth to the stars who kept her company until she could be reunited with the sun."

The look Daryl gave her was just a notch below horrified. "That's a horrible story," he said finally. "Your mom told you that?"

Beth bit back her smile and nudged his arm. "It's supposed to be romantic."

He shook his head and directed his attention back up at the sky. "If you say so."

She lightly rolled her eyes, unsurprised by his lack of enthusiasm for her story but unwilling to let it dampen the delight she felt whenever she thought of it. Not only of the memories it instilled of her mother, but also at the idea of a love that ancient, so powerful it determined the fate of the entire world below it.

"I was mad at it for a while," Daryl said suddenly, the mumbled statement bringing her abruptly out of her pleasant little fog.

"The moon? Why?"

He shifted uncomfortably and steadfastly avoided her gaze, staring down at the toes of his boots as if maybe they would answer for him instead. Finally he said softly, "Because it wasn't there the night you were taken. For a long time I thought that maybe… maybe if there had been one I could've tracked the car better. I wouldn't have lost the trail so quickly."

Beth could feel the weight of his admission hanging over them like a storm cloud heavy with thunder and rain. She watched him carefully as he stared out at nothing and chewed vigorously on his bottom lip in the thoughtful, worrying way he'd always done, unable to assuage the torrent of guilt and regret she felt for the pain her kidnapping had caused him. When he finally looked back at her, a muted anger clouded his gaze.

"But there wasn't one," he said. "And you disappeared."

Beth reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. "You found me anyway," she tried to reassure him. "Moonlight be damned."

"You've never told me what happened after that night," Beth added when the look of angry sadness began to fade from his eyes. "I mean, before you got to Terminus."

She'd hadn't stopped wanting to know everything that had happened to him in the time they'd been a part, but the more time that passed the less comfortable she had felt bringing it up. The fact that he'd glazed over it when he finally told her about Terminus made her think it was something bad, although truthfully she couldn't imagine it being any worse than describing kneeling over a trough, moments away from being gutted like a fish. Daryl let go of her hand and lay back with a heavy sigh, crooking his arm underneath his head and staring intently up at the windows that reached for the ceiling. Beth followed his lead, reclining slowly and folding her hands neatly over her belly.

"Buncha guys found me," he said finally. It was obvious how much he didn't want to tell this story, the potent mixture of hesitancy, regret, and anger soaking through every word. But she didn't interrupt, knowing from experience how that only meant he badly needed to tell it. Daryl rolled his eyes. "They called themselves the Claimers. They were all assholes. Rough, mean. Most of 'em were stupid. They found me the day you were taken. "

"I was with 'em for a while. Their leader Joe said they were trackin' some guy who'd killed one of their group members and I just went along with it. I still don't really know why… I guess I didn't know what else to do. And I knew they were bad, but they had a code and rules that made some kind of sense."

"What kind of rules?"

Daryl frowned. "Claim your shit, don't lie, don't steal. If you broke the rules you got beat. The severity of which depended on the crime and the general mood of the day."

Beth winced. That sounded like a direct quote.

"Joe liked me. He kept pushin' me to join them for real, sayin' all kinds of shit about makin' it alone and together and paradoxes, how the world made more sense the way it is now, and how he could tell the world ending hadn't really changed all that much for me. I didn't like that he made so much sense, because I thought I knew what him and his men were. I mean, I saw them beat one of their friends to death over a fuckin' rabbit." Daryl sighed and shook his head. "But I didn't. I didn't know."

"One night I was hangin' back, gettin' ready to leave when they stumble on two people who turn out to be Rick and Michonne. They were so happy 'cause they'd finally found the guy who'd killed their friend. I tried to talk them out of it, to calm Joe down… but it didn't make a difference. It just pissed him off. Couple of 'em started beatin' me. I could hear Carl cryin' and fightin', tryin' to get out from under this fat piece of shit who's just tauntin' him. Joe was tauntin' Rick with a gun against his head, said he was gonna keep him alive long enough to see them beat me to death and rape Carl and Michonne."

His hushed voice had gone hoarse, his eyes vacant as the memory played out in front of him like a horror film. Beth felt her throat thicken with tears, knowing the story ended happily enough but feeling sick to her stomach with the fear of what almost happened.

"After a while it was gettin' harder to fight back. Every time I'd gain some traction or land a punch there'd be another one landin' on me that I didn't see comin'. One of the guys threw me against the truck and just then I looked up to see Rick lean in and rip out Joe's throat with his teeth." Daryl shook his head slightly. "The rest of 'em didn't see it comin'. The fight didn't last too long after that."

"Why didn't you want to tell me that story?" Beth asked in the heavy silence that followed. Sure it was horrible but no more so than anything else they'd been through. His reluctance to tell it made little sense. For the first time since he'd begun his story Daryl turned his head and looked at her, his eyes narrowed with self-loathing and vulnerability.

"He kept saying us. Guys like _us_."

Beth immediately rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her elbow. With her other hand she cupped his jaw, gently rubbing her thumb over the stubble of his cheek.

"He told me I was tryin' to be somethin' that I wasn't. The fact that he thought I was just like all of them, that he saw somethin' in me that told him I was a good fit..."

"You're not them, Daryl," Beth interrupted. "You never were."

"I coulda been."

"But you're not."

"I still could."

"But you won't."

A flash of shame danced across his doubtful expression and he looked away from her. It made her heart hurt to see him trying so hard to hide his pain, to keep the ugly parts of himself locked deep down inside.

Beth knew there wasn't a single person alive today that didn't know exactly what horrible things they were capable of. Doing them was the reason they were _still_ alive. Beth also knew there was a line. It was imaginary and varied from person to person, but once established it was very rarely crossed. However it was painfully obvious that Daryl didn't believe he could find that line, no matter what Rick or Carol or anyone else said. He still secretly believed the bad in him would eventually win over the good.

She didn't know how to make him understand, how to make him see that he was as good as they came. That he of all people deserved to be happy, deserved this place, deserved whatever deliciously good thing they had going between them. She waited patiently and the moment his eyes drifted back to hers she leaned over and planted a lingering kiss on his mouth.

"You're here," she whispered fiercely. "Right now, with me. But that didn't happen by accident Daryl. That happened because you're a good man. The very best man I know."

His mouth was set tightly in a grim line, but there was the smallest spark of something flickering in his sad, questioning eyes. _Trust me,_ she thought _. Believe me_. But he said nothing and out of words herself, Beth leaned down to kiss him, feeling immediate relief when he responded by wrapping his strong arms tightly around her and kissed her back.

Before long she was practically on top of him. She felt his hands trail slowly down her neck and back. He was always so slow, so careful and hesitant as if he were still unsure if his touch was something that she wanted. So she helped him along, kissing him deeper and pressing her body weight down against the expanse of his chest to assure him she very much did.

Suddenly he rolled over pulling her beneath him with a swiftness that would have surprised her if her brain hadn't been operating on pure animalistic desire. He kissed his way along her jaw and when his lips met her neck she shivered, pressing her lips forcefully together to keep a moan from escaping. Every bit of her was singing with how good it all felt, how good _Daryl_ felt, warm and solid under her fingertips.

 _This is really happening,_ she thought suddenly. _We're going to do this._

The realization both scared and surprised her. But that didn't stop her from gripping the back of his neck and arching up into him, ready and wanting his hands on her bare skin. His hands moved achingly slow at the hem of her shirt and the anticipation made a tight coil of fire burn brighter in her belly. When his hands finally began to slide upwards along the plane of her stomach she shivered, expecting to feel the burst of satisfaction that follows a craving...

But it was wrong.

 _So very, very wrong._

Scarlet lights of danger pulsed behind her closed eyelids and the delicious warmth spreading through her body turned cold as ice. Suddenly the starch of his uniform enveloped her and she went rigid, the heady cologne that didn't quite cover the scent of his sour breath making her throat tight with nausea. His fingers pressed painfully into her hips and he began to smell her hair, chuckling when she turned away in disgust. The breath in her chest felt heavy as stone, tears of fear and shame filling her eyes.

 _He was going to rape her_. Gorman was going to taunt and rape her right here in Dawn's office beside Joan's dead body and there was little she could do to stop it.

But she wasn't going to make it easy for him. Beth began to push him away, the whimpers of fear in her throat turning to cries of anger. So desperate was she to get him off of her she began clawing at the cage his arms had formed around her, feeling a burst of satisfaction when his body lifted off of her and she felt cool air rush over her body. She began to scramble backwards, feeling the bite of a sliver embed itself in the palm of her hand.

"Beth! Beth stop! It's me!"

 _That's not Gorman._ She stopped trying to crawl away and abruptly fell back on her elbows, panting and confused but no longer feeling the desperate urge to flee. As suddenly as it appeared the feeling of danger bled from her body, the smells and sensations she'd been sure were real only moments ago fading away like mist to reveal white walls and a window full of stars and Daryl.

 _Oh God, Daryl. What did I do?_

He sat across from her looking disheveled, his vest hanging lower on one shoulder and eyes wide with a level of panic Beth hadn't known he could exhibit. In the dim silver-blue light filtering in behind him she could see the deep tracks her fingernails had made in his skin, his blood welling up in black stripes and dripping sluggishly down his forearms.

"Beth?" He croaked hesitantly, and the quiet fear in his voice was so obvious that when she finally opened her mouth to answer him she promptly rolled over and threw up onto the floor.

* * *

If there's anyone still out there paying attention to this story after I ignored it for a month, you're awesome and I'm sorry for making you wait. I knew where I wanted this chapter to go but I couldn't ever seem to get it there. (Thank you writer's block.) So honestly this is not my strongest or favorite chapter, but I want to move on and continue so this is what it is for now. (: Hopefully you didn't hate it!

xo,

kaitiebee


	23. Bitter and Hollow

It had all happened so fast. One minute they were making out, teetering dangerously on the edges of fast and slow, too much and not enough. The obvious attempt to make him feel better had shifted on her end into something he recognized, something that tasted like want and sounded like yes. Obligingly he slid his hands under her shirt and soaked up the warmth of her skin through his palms, letting the feel of her mute the searing pain and self-doubt he'd unearthed. But the next thing he knew her body was stiffening, the hands that had pulled him eagerly closer turning into weapons that raked viciously across his neck and down his arms as she cried out in fear.

Daryl laid awake the rest of the night, unable to close his eyes because the sight of her scrambling out from under him in desperation, her wide eyes darting from corner to corner looking for an exit played on a loop. How could he have let that happen? So absorbed in the past and his own pathetic self-hatred, so desperate to feel the goodness Beth assured him was there that he'd ignored whatever signs there must have been and pushed her over the edge.

Logically Daryl knew that _he_ wasn't what she was afraid of. But it didn't matter. He felt responsible for triggering the flashback in the first place. And more than the guilt that inspired was the vicious voice in his head—the one that tended to sound like Merle—asking him just what the hell did he think was going to happen. That the all the warm, happy feelings he'd been carrying around inside of him were going to last? That just wanting something badly enough meant he was going to actually get it?

He was a Dixon. Dixon's didn't get the girl or happy endings.

But when Beth caught up with him after breakfast the next morning, looking as sleep deprived as he felt, and asked if he'd still meet her for a walk that night he'd nodded woodenly.

He waited until the house was asleep, as he knew she would, before slipping out the front door and waiting for her on the porch. He didn't have to wait long before she came tiptoeing out, greeting him with a shy, close-lipped smile that did little to disguise her worry. Almost immediately her eyes drifted to the scratches on his cheek, following them down to where they disappeared into the collar of his shirt and a grim guilt settled over her features. Daryl turned away, letting the night shadows temporarily erase the evidence of her panic and headed down the steps without a word.

Daryl could feel the night closing in around him from all sides as Beth fell into step beside him and they began walking down the street in silence, walls of darkness that increased the weariness pressing down on his shoulders and strained the tendons in his neck. He wondered if she could feel it too. They turned the corner and her hand began searching for his in the dark, but he did not reach back, keeping his clenched hands firmly tucked in the pockets of his coat and letting her fumble around. When she finally managed to grab hold, slipping her cold fingers over his knuckles and giving them a gentle squeeze, he was assaulted by the memory of her scrambling out from underneath his touch and pried his fingers quickly free.

"What's wrong?" Beth asked, stepping swiftly in front of him and holding out a hand to keep him from walking any further. Her face was painted with bewildered amusement by his avoidant behavior. But it was a mask that her eyes, filled as they were with panic that glittered like moonlit glass, easily betrayed.

 _She already knows,_ Daryl thought.

The night before she'd told him he was a good man and he'd wanted desperately to believe that, for her at least, he could be. And not just good for the world they lived in, but really, genuinely good because that was who she deserved. But he'd seen the choices good men had to make in this world and the sacrifices they took upon themselves to protect the people they cared about, and the weight of that knowledge, the burden that came with being _that_ good was like a boulder pressing down on his chest, grinding each of his ribs into dust. A decent man would end it to keep things from getting worse. He knew of no other way to protect her from the part of herself she forgot to monitor when he came around.

"I just don't think it's a good idea, Beth," he said quietly.

"You don't think _what_ is a good idea?"

Daryl swallowed. "This. You and me. What… what we're doin'."

Her hand dropped from his chest as if she'd been burned. "Don't say that."

"Last night…"

"…was nothing! It was a bad moment, that's all. I was just a little confused…"

"A little confused? You thought I was that piece of human garbage!" Daryl snapped.

Beth faltered, clearly taken aback by the force of his anger. "I… I'm sorry."

He shook his head, instantly regretting raising his voice. "You don't have to be sorry. It's just… you didn't see your face Beth. I ain't ever seen you look so scared. And it was cause of me that happened."

"I told you… it was _just_ a flashback. I know you'd never hurt me."

"I know you know that. But I don't think it matters."

"I just haven't figured out exactly what will trigger them," Beth spoke hurriedly. "But I'll get it under control. I will. And then…"

Daryl gritted his teeth. "You were triggered by me touchin' you. Don't you think that'll be a problem? That maybe I'd like to be able to touch you without bein' afraid every time I do I'm gonna send you into some blind panic where you can't see or hear me? Where you think you're about to be attacked?"

When Beth had first told him about the hospital and the PTSD-like flashbacks the events that occurred there inspired, he'd felt confident that somehow he could fix it. That making her whole again would be as simple and straightforward as repairing his bike or replacing a broken arrow. But he understood now that he was only making it worse, and, as of last night, had become part of the problem.

"You ain't gettin' better, Beth. This… _I'm_ keepin' you from it."

"You're wrong. You make me feel better!"

Her words pierced his heart like an ice pick. He supposed it was possible she genuinely believed that but all evidence pointed to the contrary. A tense silence fell between them and even though he could feel her eyes on him, even though he knew she was waiting for him to say something he said nothing, staring down at the toes of his boots.

"Daryl, don't do this," Beth pleaded finally, her voice low.

"I'm doin' this for you."

Beth rolled her eyes. "Don't give me that shit. You're doing this because you're scared. You've never believed that you deserve good things to happen to you. That you deserved me or us! And now you have an excuse, actual proof that you're terrible so you're just running away. God Daryl… you are so worried about ruining it that you're ruining it before it even starts!"

Beth bit her lip and ran a pale, unsteady hand through her hair.

"I'm so sorry that yesterday happened, and I'm sorry I hurt you. But it's not your fault and it has absolutely nothing to do with us. Daryl… I care about you so much. More than you know." She blinked rapidly, pausing to take a shaky breath. "It won't always be like this. I just need more time to distance myself from the hospital and what happened. Everything will be okay. You'll see."

She offered him a game smile but her eyes were pleading with him to reconsider as she stepped forward with open arms. And while her earlier comments were like hammers to the fragile, hummingbird egg that was his ego, more than anything he wanted to slip his arms around her and give her what she wanted. What they both wanted. But he wouldn't be the reason she couldn't forget Gorman or the hospital and he refused to prolong her pain. So instead he flinched and took the smallest step backwards out of her reach.

For a moment her arms hung there, open and empty, the smile slowly fading from her face as the realization that he wasn't going to change his mind sunk in. Gradually she let her arms fall to her side, a dejected gesture that, coming from Beth, made him sick to his stomach.

"You're really never going to touch me again… are you?"

Daryl could see the tears glittering in her eyes and the pain in her voice cut him to pieces. Every muscle in his body was screaming for him to reach out and pull her close, to never, ever let her go. But he didn't. He didn't move or say a word, frozen by the crushing weight of his decision and fear that she'd look at him and see a monster, that he'd hurt her in any way again.

Beth surprised him by nodding once sharply and turning away without shedding a tear. She moved through the darkness with heavy steps, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if without them holding her together she'd come unglued. He watched her go until the shadows swallowed her up, trying all the while to believe the weak voice in his head that assured him he was doing the right thing.

* * *

Daryl got through the next couple of days by telling himself that he was fine. It was his mantra and lifeline, simple if inelegant. It didn't matter that he wasn't. Like knowing that the sky was blue and walkers were dangerous, he hoped that if he said it enough times eventually it would become so ingrained that he'd wake up one morning and it would feel true, an unmistakable fact of life.

Daryl was a master of avoidant behavior and found ways around being anywhere near Beth despite their living situation. He kept increasingly odd hours, skipped meals, and in general spent as little time inside the walls as possible. Not that any of it seemed to make much of a difference, because she was everywhere anyway. He still saw her in the soft yellow of the sky just as the sun began to set, heard her in the melancholy tune being hummed by a woman on watch at the gate. She was present in Judith's cries and Maggie's laugh filtering up through his floorboards, in the glow of the living room when the fireplace was lit and the waning silver-blue moonlight outside his bedroom window. There were even hints of her hidden in the food he ate and the god damn air he breathed, a constant he couldn't escape from.

The nights were the hardest adjustment. Instead of going out into the cold to be with her he stayed locked in his room, lying on the cramped twin bed and staring at the sloped ceiling, trying desperately to ignore the giant, purpling bruise inside of him that had settled into the shape of Beth.

Aside from Carol no one knew about him and Beth, so his increased surliness and altogether foul mood was something that confused everyone. He could feel them tip-toeing around him, frightened villagers afraid of disturbing the vicious giant with the mysterious scratches on his face and neck, something that only served to make him madder.

Pent up with anger and frustration, his inability to say what he meant or do what he wanted where Beth was concerned filled him with a rage he knew would spiral quickly out of control at the slightest provocation. Which is why, on the third morning after he'd ended things, he left the warmth of his bed and disappeared into the woods before dawn had even begun to think about lifting her pink skirt over the chilly black world, determined to find some peace out in the woods.

During the day the temperature had been creeping up to almost 50 degrees, but the sunless hours were bitterly cold for a person used to winters so mild they were hardly winters at all. However today he welcomed the cold, finding a strange satisfaction in how it made his fingers stiff and his ears throb and his nose drip like a leaky faucet. It was an odd form of penance and an added challenge to hunting that would make returning home with a prize that much more sweet.

He told himself he was hunting the deer that had managed to elude him before, and set out with every intention of doing so. After effortlessly taking down two stray walkers about a mile outside the wall, he quickly picked up a fresh set of tracks heading east. He followed them for a while but he wasn't focused on the hunt and the necessary details quickly escaped his notice. By the time the sky lightened and day had officially taken over, his important, self-affirming hunt had turned into nothing more than an angry, careless romp through the woods.

 _Quit bein' a pussy little brother._

Shut up Merle, Daryl thought with a sigh, roughly pushing aside a low hanging branch.

He had no real way of knowing if the abrasive ramblings of his big brother that he heard so often were the result of his ragged psyche working through things it its own fucked up way or if he was somehow being haunted. Regardless he never welcomed the conversations. However today in particular he was not in the mood to be messed with, which he realized was probably the exact reason Merle had decided to show up.

 _You're a special kind of stupid if you're gonna let one bitch mess you up so badly you can't even go out and hunt like a man,_ Merle continued. The sound of his voice grated Daryl's nerves. _So what if she's gone? I realize that women ain't exactly fallin' from the sky nowadays, but they ain't all disappeared. Find your balls, reattach 'em, and go out and find a new slam piece. It ain't rocket science._

Daryl clenched his hand so tightly around the handle of his bow he could feel his pulse beating in his palm. He paused to shake his head in a desperate attempt to rid his mind from the phantom "advice" of his big brother, but all he felt was his brain rattling along from side to side inside his skull and Merle's laughter grow louder. He resumed his walk, his glaring ineptitude and anger clouding his vision and after a moment he heard Merle's heavy sigh.

 _Alright Daryl. I'll level with ya. I guess if I's you I'd be upset at losin' myself a piece of tail like Blondie, too._

Daryl's mouth twisted into a snarl. When he'd finally told Beth about Joe and his band of scumbags that was the one bit of the story he'd left out. That greasy motherfucker Len had said something similar, how "some bitch" had turned him into a dead man walking, missing his piece of tail. It still made Daryl's skin crawl to think how that man had read him like a book while managing to turn losing Beth into something twisted and ugly. Now Merle was doing the exact same thing.

Shut. Up. Merle.

 _I'm just sayin' the girl's easy on the eyes. Hey, speakin' of which, you ever wonder how someone who looked like Hershel ended up with two babes for daughters? I mean total grade A hotties. Just don't make no sense._

Daryl eyed the colorful arrow loaded on his bow, briefly wondering if ramming it into his ears would silence Merle or if he'd have to just go ahead and shoot himself in the head.

 _But then again I guess there's alotta things that don't make sense to me. Like you pickin' Beth over Maggie or Sasha. Or that Rosita chick? God damn if that ain't a spicy burrito I'd like to wrap myself up in._

"God dammit Merle," Daryl muttered out loud, a hint of desperation ringing loudly in his ears.

 _What? Like you ain't thought about it._

"Not everyone's as horny and stupid as you."

 _Hey now, just cause I enjoy endin' my day with a pretty lady waxin' my pecker don't mean nothin'. Just the way of the world, little brother. The natural order of things. But hell I shouldn't have to tell you that, what with you spendin' all that time in the dead of night with Blondie. Only one thing a man and woman sneakin' off like you two are fixin' to do._

Daryl said nothing. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, listening to the whispered crunch of dead leaves and brush giving way under his weight instead.

His brother let out an exaggerated gasp. _Don't tell me you ain't fucked her yet._

Daryl came to an abrupt halt. "Fuck you Merle," he spat.

Merle burst into a wheezing, hysterical laughter. _Holy mother of God Daryl what're you waitin' for? Prom night?_

"That's it," Daryl said with an impatient shake of his head. Every second he spent conversing with someone he knew wasn't there was fuel on the fire of his anger, the toxic, hateful nature of the entire conversation only making him louder and more desperate for it to be over. "I ain't gotta put up with this shit. I'm done."

Merle's voice grew louder, a tactic Daryl recognized from when they were kids and he'd tried to disobey or ignore his big brother in the slightest. Merle would simply raise his voice and tell him how it was going to be, and that was always the way it went. _First of all, no you ain't. You ain't ever gonna be done with me. Second of all, seriously what're you waitin' for?_

"It ain't about that," Daryl yelled at the trees. "It was never just about that."

 _You think you love her, don't you?_ Merle sounded genuinely disappointed. _Darylina got himself a forever-gal? Well I hate to be the one to break this to you, but it's probably a good thing you dropped her when you did because there ain't a snowball's chance in Hell that that girl would've ever loved you back._

"FUCK YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!"

His screams startled a flock of birds perched in a nearby tree into the air, chirping indignantly as they flapped and fluttered away from the crazy man disturbing their rest. The fight in him burned like red hot coals in the center of his chest, extending to the tips of his fingers and coiling like angry serpents in his muscles. His words echoed in the silence and bounced off of the sturdy trees and he spun around, breathing hard, frantic for someone to hit or something to kill. But there was nothing and no one around. Even Merle had finally gone silent.

With a bitter sigh he sank to the ground, leaning roughly back against the cool, broad trunk of a nearby tree and letting his bow fall free from his grasp. Feeling limp and used up he stared straight ahead for a long time seeing nothing, the air, sky, and trees blurring and softening into dark, meaningless shapes as his eyes focused and unfocused of their own accord. He barely even noticed when clumps of white began drifting towards the earth like downy feathers, tiny kisses of cold that melted against his burning skin.

Daryl was thinking that it had taken almost three years for him to lose his mind in a world that had long ago lost its own, and not only did that have to be some kind of record but what exactly that meant for him when in the distance he heard the slightest of rustles. He turned his head in the direction of the sound as a twig softly snapped, curling his aching fingers half-heartedly around the bow that lay beside him.

His heart did a little leap as a doe appeared from around a tree about thirty yards ahead with an eight-point buck not far behind. At first they took no notice of him, moving almost silently on a path clear only to them and pausing often, their steps careful and particular. Daryl had hunted countless deer in his lifetime but he had never simply sat and looked objectively at one before, and he was momentarily struck by their beauty. Muscular, elegant, and poised, their sleek, chestnut colored coats were a spot of brightness against the somber tree trunks and flat grey sky. That the pair of them should stumble across his path like this directly after his minor mental breakdown was incredible luck, but for some reason he didn't understand Daryl made no move to lift his bow from his lap.

There was no natural reason for them to be alone together like this. Mating season was still months ahead and deer didn't mate for life. Had their herds been decimated by walkers or people, pushing them together and bending the laws of nature? Or, he wondered, had they chosen to be together?

Daryl exhaled sharply in confusion and the burst of noise attracted the deer's attention. Both froze in place and their heads lifted in Daryl's direction. A hush fell over the dim woods, cocooning him in a soft and fragile stillness he was loathe to interrupt. The pair stared at him with shiny, unblinking amber eyes fringed with impossibly long, dark lashes and Daryl stared back, slightly unnerved but physically unable to look away.

The doe lost interest first, deciding Daryl was no threat to her and with a satisfied twitch of her nose turned and wandered away. However the buck continued its soul-gazing stare, his front leg lifted slightly off of the ground as if he wanted to follow his mate but was too stubborn to turn his back on the possibility of danger glaring helplessly at him from ten yards away.

"You're an idiot," Daryl growled suddenly. Gun to his head he couldn't have explained whether he was talking to the buck or himself, but the sound jarred the buck enough to send him trotting after the doe and Daryl watched them until they disappeared behind a slight hill. He stared at the spot where they vanished long afterwards as the snow fell around him in thick clumps that melted as soon as they made contact with the earth, the unspoken wish for them to return melting like a sugar cube on his tongue.

* * *

He returned late in the afternoon and walked through the streets of Alexandria with his head down. It was fairly quiet—most people were either still at work or had locked themselves inside the warmth of their homes—and Daryl tried to appreciate the silence. His conversation with Merle had left him feeling gutted, and the hollow he carried was rapidly filling with dread with the thought that each step he took was taking him back to the house where _she_ was. That another night would be spent stubbornly holed up in his room without seeing or touching her, tormented by the part of him that whispered she was only across the hall.

A voice called out his name, slicing through the fog of his thoughts. He glanced to his right to see Aaron standing up on his front porch. He offered a tentative smile and wave and Daryl surprised himself by stopping.

"Hi," Aaron said. Daryl jerked his head in response, unable to force a more polite greeting from his mouth. Aaron nodded at the empty bag hanging over his shoulder. "I take it the hunt wasn't successful today?"

Daryl shrugged, thinking the clearly carcass-free bag spoke for itself. Aaron seemed okay, but he hated it when people asked questions they already knew the answer to and had no desire to play friendly-neighbor with the man. Aaron smiled awkwardly in response, seeming to realize the stupidity of his question. He broke the silence by jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

"You hungry? I know it's kind of early for dinner but Eric made pasta. Spaghetti, actually. You should join us."

Daryl couldn't remember the last time he'd had spaghetti and the mere word made his mouth water. "Naw, I'm good."

"Come on," Aaron said jovially, beckoning him towards the front door with a casual and inviting wave of his hand. "It'll be good. I promise." Without another word he disappeared into his house leaving the door wide open behind him.

Daryl glanced back down to the end of the street towards his house. Michonne was outside leaning against the porch rails in her shiny black windbreaker, Carl on one side of her and Rick on the other. Carl said something that made Michonne throw back her head with laughter and Rick shake his head. They looked content, so blissfully happy, and he didn't have the heart to brush by and ruin it with his personal storm cloud of bitterness. After another moment of deliberation Daryl slowly climbed the porch steps and let himself inside.

From the looks of it Eric and Aaron's house was as spacious and modern as the two he and his family had been given. Most of the lights on the first floor were off but the lit fireplace cast a reddish-orange glow over the furniture in the dark living room and bled into the foyer. For a moment Daryl stood awkwardly just inside the door watching the shadows dance, unsure of where to go or how to let himself into this strange place. But then Aaron waved him into the dining room on his right and quickly offered him a seat beside Eric at, he noticed, a table already set for three.

Admittedly the food smelled delicious. The spaghetti sat in a snarled heap on a decorative platter in the center of the table. There was no sauce that Daryl could see, but as Eric dished him up a plate he noticed the noodles had a reddish cast to them that suggested some effort had been made to flavor them accordingly. Across from him Aaron began serving wine, the jewel colored liquid gurgling noisily from the bottle's mouth.

Daryl immediately took the glass Aaron handed him and took a self-conscious swig to take the edge off, wincing as the tart, fruity flavor coated his tongue. He'd never been a fan of wine and hadn't drunk a drop since the night they'd holed up at the CDC just outside of Atlanta. But he quickly threw back another swallow and told himself that he was doing so only because it was booze and he was uncomfortable, and not at all because it reminded him of Beth and the way she'd tasted when she'd come home after Deanna's party.

In a hurry to jump off that dangerous train of thought he began to eat, shoveling the tangled, slippery noodles into his mouth. For a while his hosts tried to engage him in polite conversation and managed to use his occasional grunt and dismissive shoulder shrugs to keep a conversation aloft for most of the meal.

"Deanna hasn't given you a job, has she?"

Daryl shoveled another forkful of spaghetti into his mouth before shaking his head at Aaron, using the back of his hand to wipe away the watery tomato glaze clinging to the corners of his mouth. She hadn't and by now he didn't really expect her to.

"Is there anything you're interested in doing?" Eric asked. Daryl glanced sideways at him, ignoring the sullen voice in his head that wanted to tell him to mind his own fucking business.

"No," he answered tersely instead. He emptied his glass and before he could set it down Aaron was already reaching for the bottle to refill it.

"The reason Deanna didn't give you a job is because I asked her not to," he said as he poured.

Daryl frowned, mildly intrigued despite himself. "Why?"

"Because I wanted to offer you one instead. I'd like you to be Alexandria's other recruiter."

Daryl twirled his fork over his mostly empty plate, his eyebrows knitting together with confusion. "Thought that was Eric's job."

Aaron's eyes flashed briefly to Eric and he sighed. "Well, Pete says his ankle won't be back to normal for another couple of weeks and Deanna wants us out there again at least once before it snows. But truthfully I don't want Eric to do it anymore. He's risked his life enough."

"So it's my turn is what you're sayin'."

Aaron shook his head quickly, crossing his arms against his chest in blatant discomfort. "No. Well… yes, I guess that's sort of what I'm saying. But what I mean is that you're good out there. Not only that but you're comfortable out there, more so than Eric will ever be. Or me for that matter."

Daryl looked down at his plate and continued eating.

"You saved my life," Aaron continued. "Back when the RV was overrun and I was trying to get to Eric. I'd already brought you to my vehicle and you knew my partner was inside, likely injured or dead. It wouldn't have taken much to figure out how to get to Alexandria without us. You could have easily let that walker bite me and just been on your way. But that's not what you did. You didn't know or trust me but you didn't want me to die."

In a sudden fit of passion Aaron leaned forward over his plate.

"When it comes down to it you can tell the difference between a good person and a bad person, Daryl. You value life and can help me find the right kind of people to join us here."

Daryl set his fork down with a clank and sat back in his chair. "You don't know me."

"No," Eric piped in gently. "But I think that we understand better than the others what you're feeling right now."

"You don't know shit."

Eric shrugged, completely unfazed by Daryl's tone. "People are afraid of you because you're different. You're unlike anything they've ever seen before. They don't know what to _do_ with you or how to take you, so they treat you with a distant politeness because they feel like they _have_ to. And even though you need to belong, even though there's a part of you that genuinely wants to, you don't think you can ever truly have that sense of normal because of how everyone else will always see you."

Daryl chewed on his lip and stared intently down at the brightly colored face of his empty plate. It was true he didn't fit in here, but he'd been making as much of an effort as he could because it was important to his family. He'd actively participated in every one of Rick and Carol's hushed conferences about their safety and preemptive, cautious countermeasures to moves Deanna probably hadn't thought to make against them. He'd obeyed the half-hearted rules. He'd even dressed up and walked over to Deanna's for that stupid party. He hadn't made it in the door or even up to the door itself, but still. He had tried.

"I think what Eric's trying to say," Aaron started, "is that these people are nice, well-meaning people who generally want the best for everyone inside these walls. But they are still people, and even well-meaning people say and do incredibly offensive things sometimes. The looks alone can drive a person to drink."

Eric nodded with a bemused smile before turning back to Daryl. "Aaron and I are outsiders here. Especially when we first arrived. The recruiting missions… they kept us from going insane."

"I ain't goin' insane," Daryl muttered at his lap.

Eric said, "Maybe not, but we know from experience how hard it can be having to deal with people getting used to you. It's not fun."

"This is our home," Aaron added. "And it's yours now too. You don't belong out there, but you aren't comfortable here yet either. And I think that as much as I need you to help me do this… well. For now you need to be able to leave this place just as badly."

Immediate excuses tripped to the tip of his tongue about why he couldn't go, why he wouldn't go. He told himself he needed to stay for his family, that they needed him here. But he was forced to admit that wasn't entirely true considering how he'd been pretty absent since they day they'd moved in. He loved his family and genuinely wanted to be with them and keep them safe. But without _her_? Without her he could feel the walls shrinking around him, slowly trapping him inside their metal confines and making it harder to breathe. He had to get out. To do something that made sense in the world he understood.

He looked back up at Aaron's expectant face, already nodding.

"Alright," he said. "I'll do it."

Both Aaron and Eric's smiles were genuinely pleased.

"That's great Daryl," Aaron replied, leaning back in his chair. "Thank you."

Eric stood and despite Aaron's protests at being on his feet began clearing the table, stacking sauce splattered plates in the crook of his arm. "Go show him," he said cryptically to Aaron, his smile widening.

Daryl frowned, the ease agreeing to Aaron's proposition had given him beginning to shrivel up in the light of more surprise. "Show me what?"

* * *

"It came with the house," Aaron announced as he flipped on the lights to the garage. "Whoever lived here built them."

Daryl stepped down from the kitchen and into the clean, spacious room, blinking in the bright light reflecting off of the white walls. It smelled familiar, like paint and metal with faint undertones of engine grease.

"I don't know what it'll take to get it running again," Aaron admitted. "I have some grasp of small engines… lawn mowers, rototillers, that sort of thing. But I'm out of my depth with this guy. I kept bringing parts back, bits and pieces every time I went out there thinking one day I'd have the time or inclination to figure out how to put it together."

Daryl walked slowly around the garage as he talked, eying the shelves of tools, the clean cement floor, and work tables stacked with enough displaced parts to build a small army of bikes. He glanced back at Aaron, raising his eyebrows in silent amusement.

Aaron chuckled and began rubbing the back of his neck. "I may have been a little over zealous with my collecting. But like I said, I don't know anything about bikes or what I'd need. Carol mentioned you rode bikes though, and I figure that means you know exactly what it will take."

Daryl's face twitched. He didn't like the thought of people having conversations about him. But his irritation was quieted as he lifted the drab, olive colored tarp in the center of the room and laid eyes on the frame that was the conversation's focal point. Even half-finished it was a beautiful bike. Its potential sparked something that resembled excitement in Daryl.

He looked back up at Aaron who lingered at the bottom of the steps, struggling to understand.

"You're really just gonna give this to me?"

Aaron nodded. "If you want it it's yours."

"And all cause you think I can sort out the good from the bad."

Aaron's mouth quirked up. "I know you can."

Daryl ran a hand over the black handlebars, feeling a phantom rumble vibrate through his palm. It would be nice to have a bike again.

"I'll come by tomorrow and start fixin' her up," he said as he laid the tarp gently back down over the motorcycle.

Aaron smiled. "Sounds great."

Not five minutes later Daryl had collected his things and was stepping out the front door into the chilly air. The view from the doorway looked different. He knew the world he was reentering was the same one he'd left an hour ago, but for some reason it didn't feel so bleak. There was a lack of hopelessness that had weighed on him so heavily before.

He'd already said goodbye inside but before Aaron shut the door Daryl turned and offered a final nod.

"Hey," he said. "Thanks."

Aaron nodded in understanding and said, "See you tomorrow." Then he shut the large white door with a soft thud and Daryl turned toward home.

Winter twilight had fallen lending a blue-grey tint that personified cold to everything the light touched. But Daryl hardly noticed, already thinking about the best way to approach working on the bike and roughly how soon he could get it running. He was surprised at how having a project and a useful employment made him feel. It wasn't a cure by any means, but for a little while the pain had lessened to a dull throb he'd been able to, if not ignore, than push to the bottom of his thoughts.

Thinking this he suddenly saw Beth. Only it wasn't a figment of his imagination or a clever combination of memory and wishful thinking, but actually her off in the distance. The bright blonde of her hair was like a neon sign glowing in the dim light and his heart began to thud, jerking and painful, as if it's parts had rusted and struggled to remember how to beat out a normal rhythm.

She stood near the wall in the open, grassy field not far from their house. There were two men with her talking, one with curly hair and another with short, dark hair. Their backs were to him, but he knew he wouldn't have recognized them had he been able to see their faces. Still, Daryl clenched the strap of his bag tightly in his fist as a rush of jealousy flooded into his chest.

He resolved to keep walking, knowing he'd given up the right to be jealous the moment he pushed her away, and tried to tear his eyes away. But something about how close the two men were to Beth made him pause. They were too close, their stances purposefully casual, spread out just enough so that when Beth tried to walk around them she ended up taking another step backwards. Despite the smile on her face, from where Daryl stood it was obvious she was uncomfortable and wanted them to leave her alone.

Beth took another step back and bumped into the wall, the smile melting from her face as she reached out behind her and spread her palm against the rusty metal. Her brow furrowed indignantly and Daryl saw her lips move. But whatever she had to say merely made the dark haired man laugh, his chortle lifting in the night air and floating into Daryl's ears. The sound was like the whine of an electric drill in how it made his back molars grind together in irritation.

The laughing young man reached out and curled his hand around her bicep.

And Daryl dropped his bag and began to run.


	24. Three Rounds

Beth felt the wall rising up behind her, solid and supposedly impenetrable, and felt her heart sink even as her face flamed with rage.

How dare they? First they intrude upon her solitude, annoy her with endless questions and tasteless conversation, and now they were going to… what? In the part of her that remained unmasked by fury and fear of what they might do she kicked herself for putting herself in this position in the first place.

Daryl breaking up with her—if she could even call it that—was a blow she hadn't been prepared for. Everything had been going wonderfully. When they were together all of the bad stuff that encompassed their lives had faded to the background, allowing her to be happier than she could ever remember being. And then she'd glitched, her brain betraying her yet again into harming someone she cared for deeply. It was maddening that this dark, biting, angry thing had such power over her, yanking and pulling at the rotten memories like marionette strings whenever it saw fit and making her bend to its will. It wasn't fair but she could hardly blame Daryl for running.

What was even less fair was that Daryl had gone incognito. She hadn't seen even a glimpse of him in three days, despite the fact he lived in the same house. It was as if he'd disappeared, like everything that had happened between them was all just some elaborate fantasy she'd concocted in her head and she was left with nothing but the sick, sad feeling in her heart that made her want to crawl into her bed and never crawl back out.

However that wasn't an option because she had a job to do. She'd begun working with Rose after Deanna's party, every morning walking over to the garage attached to the home Rose shared with the other teacher Gillian and her husband Terry that had been converted into a school house. At first, after meeting the eight kids who would be her students, she'd merely observed, carefully watching the way Rose approached teaching children with unknowable scars and past horrors things like addition and cursive. She was kind and entertaining, understanding but firm, giving them space when necessary and pushing them when they needed it. Her obvious talent was both intimidating and aspirational and Beth took all of her guidance and advice to heart.

Gradually Beth had come to feel at home in the little space. It was cramped and tomb-like without the lamps Rose had placed strategically throughout the room, and the cold outside was constantly battling with their little space heater in the corner. But she liked the smell of paper and chalk dust that lingered in the air, the mismatched desks and orderly bookshelves that lined the back wall. The kids' artwork hung on every wall and hung from the ceiling in primary colors and curious shapes, brightening the mundane space and lending an eclectic, relaxed atmosphere that made it easy for the kids to learn and for her to teach.

That morning she had led a reading lesson with the youngest members of the class—a pair of five year old twin boys and a six year old with a stress-induced stutter—while Rose reviewed for a math test the older kids were scheduled to have the next day. When Rose announced that class was over for the day, Beth lifted the child off of her lap and walked over to lift the garage door as the kids scrambled to collect their belongings. Beth stood just inside the door, making sure coats were zipped and saying goodbyes as one by one they filtered out into the neighborhood. She noticed Rose walking towards her, glimpsing a strange smile on her face as she sent the last little girl skipping out onto the sidewalk with her notebook tucked under her arm.

"Alright," Rose said as they watched the kids run their separate ways, lamenting to one another that the earlier snowfall hadn't left so much as a flake behind. "Out with it."

Beth knew her attempt at a smile was less than convincing but committed to it anyway. "Out with what?"

"Whatever's making you so gloomy child."

"I'm fine." It was a lie she'd been perpetuating for days, figuring that as long as she was technically alive and breathing and safe she had no legitimate cause for complaint. Paired with a smile she struggled to secure and a flippant wave of her hand, it had worked well enough with Tara the night before in the hallway before bed, and Deanna and Reg this morning when their paths crossed on her way to the school.

Rose, however, wasn't buying it. The old woman had shaken her head, a sad smile stretching across her face. She lifted her hand and pressed her fingertips lightly against Beth's chest. "You're sad. I see it right here."

Her heart thumped louder in response, as if determined to tell Rose all of her secrets even if Beth refused.

"We're all a little sad, Rose," Beth replied softly.

"This is true. But—and forgive me for saying so—this feels like a fresh kind of sadness to me. The kind you wear on the outside of your heart rather than on the inside. You put something that raw inside your heart and you'll break it."

Beth bit her bottom lip, thinking that it was too late for that.

"Whatever it is," Rose continued, "don't lose yourself in it. If you can fight, fight. And if you can't, well. Sometimes all a broken heart needs is time to mend itself."

Unsure of whether to feel unnerved or grateful, Beth had kept quiet until Rose pulled her hand away. She lightly brushed Beth's cheek and the sound of her knuckles dragging up the plane of her cheek was a soft, comforting whisper that made tears prick behind her closed eyelids. Rose turned back into the desk-filled garage then, calling over her shoulder that quiet and fresh air did wonders for the soul if she decided she wasn't as alright as she claimed.

So later, without any better ideas to ease the ache in her heart Beth had decided to follow the wizened teacher's advice and go for a walk to clear her head. And despite her initial doubts she'd been having a pleasant one. The late afternoon cold tasted sharp on her tongue and seemed to scrub her lungs clean with its crispness. For the most part she was alone, the rapidly fading light sending people indoors to the warmth of fireplaces and kitchens, and the solitude was blissful. She didn't let herself think about anything or anyone, focusing on the sensation of breathing in the cold air and the purposeful exhaustion of muscles.

And then Aidan and Nicholas joined her. She had no idea where they'd come from but suddenly they were there and greeting her, and before she knew it they were inviting themselves along on her walk. Too polite to tell them no she'd let them walk beside her, smiling at their jokes and nodding in intervals to pretend she was listening when really she couldn't have cared less.

"You're awfully quiet tonight," Aidan observed after they'd circled around the main part of town once, bumping her arm gently with his elbow.

She started slightly at the contact but hid it with a gracious smile. "I'm fine," she replied, taking a subtle step away. "Just tired."

He grinned. "I bet. Those kids are a real handful. They'd wipe anybody out."

"Yeah," Nicholas said from his friend's side. "I'd take a group of walkers over having to wrangle those little monsters any day." They both laughed, oblivious to the hollow smile Beth pasted on her face in response.

"You know it's probably not good for you to hang out with only little kids all day anyway," Aidan said. "You're more than welcome to come hang with us if you'd like. Or me, I guess, at least this week. Nicholas is on night-watch starting at eight."

On cue Nicholas grumbled something under his breath, distracting her from the strange feeling Aidan's words introduced to her system. His obvious displeasure was baffling to Beth. Being on watch wasn't anyone's favorite thing to do but it was an important job that meant keeping people safe. Why on earth he would choose to be upset about an inconvenience of timing was beyond her.

"Thank you," she said. "That's kind of you to offer but…"  
"It's no problem! We're pretty boring, as I'm sure you've figured out by now. But sometimes it's cool to just sit back and drink a beer and listen to some music with friends. Forget, you know. It feels kind of like the old days."

"I'm sure it is. Listen, I'm thinking about heading…"

"You like music Beth?" Aidan asked, talking calmly over her as if she hadn't said a word. "You seem like the kind of girl who likes music."

Her mind flashed to a few nights ago sitting in the gazebo with Daryl. She had her head pillowed on his thigh while the warm, acrid smoke of the cigarette he smoked scented the air. "Sing somethin'," he'd said out of the blue. "Whatever you like. My jukebox's broken." She'd laughed at the running joke and after clearing her throat began to softly sing "Mama Tried" while his fingers played with the ends of her hair.

She sighed at Aidan. "Sure. I love music."

"Well in that case you should definitely come by. I've got a pretty impressive CD collection brewing. Nicholas here doesn't appreciate it. He has no taste whatsoever."

Beth returned to her default nodding and smiling and Aidan buzzed in her ear like an insistent bee. It was a static that allowed her mind to drift, something that proved to be a mistake because without her earlier vigilant focus more thoughts of Daryl flooded in.

"So what do you say?"

"About what?"

"About coming over to check out the CDs."

Beth bit back her laughter. The entire exchange had traveled to an incredibly awkward place she had no desire to continue visiting. "Maybe some other time," she said, trying to sound interested enough so that she wouldn't hurt his feelings. "I'm actually pretty tired."

"Nonsense," Aidan scoffed. "This collection is epic. We're talking hours of non-stop fun and excitement. If you get sleepy you can just crash at my place."

It was obvious her not-so-subtle hints to be left alone were going to continue being ignored, so Beth veered off and took a shortcut that would take them close to the wall and through the grassy field across from her house. Her steps unconsciously quickened, eager to assist her mind's desire to escape from the men stuck to her side like leeches. Their inquiries and incessant talking was harmless, she supposed. But there was something about Aidan's pushiness that made her tense, an expectancy lurking in the empty pauses of his speech and an aggressiveness barely diluted by polite small talk and the presence of his friend that irritated her.

Suddenly Aidan asked her what was wrong, reaching out a hand and gently pulling her to a stop. For a moment there was something genuine in his expressed concern, a softness around his brown eyes that invited her to share her woes. And while he in fact was part of the answer to his question, everything else was bubbling up, begging to be spoken about. She looked up and debated telling him something, anything at all to relieve some of the pressure building in her chest.

And that was all it took, a handful of seconds of vulnerability and she became prey. It took her a minute to realize that Aidan and Nick had her cornered. They had left enough space between themselves and her to make it look like a casual conversation to random passerby, although there were none. But warning bells began to chime inside her head anyway. The same creeping feeling of dread that filled her stomach when Gorman had pinned her against Dawn's desk washed over her and she clenched her arms more tightly across her chest. But both Aidan and Nicholas ignored the obvious discomfort in her face and the tense angles of her body.

Their smiles were too broad, too charming, too much wolf. She knew what smiles like that meant, what their increasing closeness despite her angry orders to let her pass and leave her be meant. Their smiles widened and the shadows began to grow and creep upwards behind them in terrible, familiar forms, and along with the sour taste of bile at the back of her throat she tasted green apple lollipops.

"Beth!"

The sound of his voice made her pulse jump as simultaneous relief stormed through her and made her knees quake. She opened her eyes to see Daryl pushing roughly past Aidan and Nicholas, stepping in front of her until he was all she could see. The smell of leather and dirt invaded her senses, washing away the memory of dim hallways and evil men in hero's garb. She was dimly aware of his fingertips pressing gently against her hip, of the searching look in his eyes that was telling her to breathe, that she was safe.

"You okay?" He asked, his voice low.

"Course she is man," Aidan said cheerfully from behind him, that too-wide grin still on his face. "Nick and I were just getting to know Beth a little bit. Weren't we Beth?"

The concern in Daryl's expression sharpened into anger before he turned to face the young man.

"That so?"

"What's it to you Dixon? Last time I checked, there weren't any laws about who I could or could not speak to." Aidan directed his faux-confused face at his friend, sarcasm and resentment coloring his words. "What about you Nick? Heard anything like that?"

Nicholas shook his head, though he was obviously much more cowed by Daryl's presence than his companion. Beth watched as he shoved his hands in his pockets and took a subtle step backward, whatever interest he'd had in his friend's game rapidly disappearing. Aidan, for his part, noticed nothing.

"Didn't think so," he said to Daryl, eyebrows raised in a smug gesture Beth knew would aggravate him. If there was one thing she knew about Daryl—and at this point there were many—it was that he didn't take kindly to being mocked or challenged.

Sure enough he took a step closer to Aidan, the tension and aggression rippling off of his body like waves of heat. Beth knew how this would end, and as much as she would have loved to see Aidan sporting a limp and two fresh black eyes, she wasn't willing to just let it happen. Especially because Daryl probably wouldn't stop until he killed him.

"Listen here you smug little prick…" Daryl started, his voice raising in time with his arm.

Quick as a flash Beth reached out her hand, grabbing the back of Daryl's arm and using it to propel herself in front of him to block his path at Aidan.

"Daryl," she soothed. "It's okay. It's fine. I'm fine."

"Yeah Daryl," Aidan goaded behind her. "Relax man. Listen to little Bethy here."

Hearing that nickname made her falter. Almost instantly she was back there, in that place, pinned between a cold metal desk and a hungry, cruel man as icy fear flooded through her veins and made her entire body stiffen. Thoughts of the pain and indignity she was about to be forced through clouding her mind and making it difficult to breathe. Vaguely the sounds of a cocky chuckle filtered through the haze of memory, and blinking the present come back into focus.

She truly didn't know that she was going to punch Aidan until her fist made contact with his nose, the solid thwack of bone against bone catching all four of them off guard. Aidan's head snapped back and then he pitched forward, bending at the waist as his hands came up to cup his assaulted nose. When he stood whatever anger glimmered in his round eyes was offset by complete surprise and the unspoken realization that he had misjudged her. In the fading light the blood spurting from his nose and dripping through his fingers looked black as tar.

"You fucking bitch!" he spat, the disdain in his voice severely muffled by the hand trying in vain to stem the flow of blood under his nostrils. "Who the hell do you think you are?" Daryl's laughter floated over her shoulder and the sound made her own lips twitch, something that only served to fuel Aidan's fury. He dropped his hand and took a step closer to her and instinctively she closed her fist again. "You think this is funny?"

Aidan shrugged the hand Nicholas placed on his shoulders away, jerking out of his reach. Beth knew she should be more frightened of him. The unpredictability of an angry man was something she had long ago learned to be afraid of. But when she looked at Aidan, huffing and puffing and cursing at her like they were the only words he knew she couldn't find an ounce of fear anywhere. Behind the anger and copious amounts of blood was a humiliated little boy, a simple bully whose advances had been denied and a sore loser who had been momentarily broken by a girl he'd assumed wouldn't fight back. None of those things inspired her fear.

He continued to call her names and hollering threats about having Deanna kick her out of Alexandria even as Nicholas finally managed to pull him away. Beth watched them go, feeling oddly satisfied with the day's turn of events. She turned to Daryl with a grin already in place eager to share the feeling, but the smile was already fading from his face, his earlier laughter replaced by a grim frown. His eyes flitted from her face to the ground and her heart sunk. His coming to help her didn't mean a thing; he hadn't changed his mind about them. When he finally looked up at her it was only to jerk his head towards the house to indicate they should head home.

Daryl walked a step or two in front of her, parting the tall, brown grass. The lines of his back were stiff and rigid, communicating distance without saying a single word. He was clearly planning to pretend like what had just happened hadn't happened and jump right back into his aggravating plan to do what he thought was best for her. Beth followed in his footsteps, the earlier feeling of satisfaction burning away like kerosene. No longer hurt or confused, now she was purely angry. Angry that he'd disappeared, angry that he'd made this decision without her, angry that he'd come to her aid only to turn away from her when it was all over, angry that her hand hurt something terrible.

"So you're not even going to look at me now?" He continued walking as if she hadn't said a word. "Seriously Daryl this is ridiculous. You can stand there all dark and surly and pretend like you don't care but we both know that's not true. If that were the case you wouldn't have bothered just now."

The anger and lingering sadness from the past few days was a wave inside her, growing taller and stronger with every second that he refused to back down.

"Is this really how you want things to be? Awkward and sad and unbearable? You may think this is the right thing to do but you're wrong! I don't want to pretend that nothing happened between us Daryl. I won't."

If she could just get him to talk to her, to really look at her than she was sure she could make him see what a mistake them not being together was. But the space between them and the house was growing smaller with every step and she was running out of time.

"Quit being a stubborn jackass and turn around," she yelled at his back. "Talk to me. _Look at me_!"

His hands balled into shaking fists at his sides and Beth knew his resolve was wavering. She felt bad trying to break him, but it was his own damn fault. She hadn't asked for this. She didn't _want_ this, and she knew he didn't either. Inside the wave reached the base of her throat and with it came the words she had been too afraid to tell him, rising up out of the place in her heart she'd locked them in and balancing at the root of her tongue. She came to an abrupt stop and in a burst of passion and fury blurted them out.

"You told me to come back to you!"

Daryl stopped in his tracks. The silence surrounding them was deafening. He took several breaths with his hand fidgeting at his side before finally turning to face her. "What?"

Suddenly nervous, Beth swallowed and tried to explain. "At the hospital… when things got rough I heard your voice in my head. All the time. Yelling at me, mostly. To be strong, to be brave, to fight back… and it helped me. It kept me going. And then after I got shot I couldn't wake up but sometimes I could hear things. Voices of the people around me. And most of the time I didn't know what they were saying or who was saying them… but then I heard you. And I knew it was _you_. You told me to come back to you."

For a long time she'd wondered if she had imagined the words that pulled her from the darkness and, just in case, hadn't told him he was the reason she'd finally woken up. That the weight of those words and the desire that bled through them frightened and exhilarated her at the same time. But standing in front of her Daryl merely blinked, staring with stormy eyes and a conflicted look on his face that suggested to her what she'd heard was real. She took a step closer to him wondering if he could hear how loudly her heart was pounding. But he didn't walk away.

"Daryl… it terrifies me that I still see his face. I hate the fact that place is a part of me and that I can't figure out how to let the bad stuff go. What happened the other night was an accident. It was embarrassing and stupid and scary… but it didn't have anything to do with you."

She stood so close she had to look up at him, three days' worth of hot, unshed tears filling her eyes. Slowly she placed a hand on his arm and had to stifle the urge to sigh, so instant was the relief that touching him again gave her. Still he didn't move away.

"You told me to come back to you," Beth whispered fiercely. "And I did. I'm asking you to come back to me now."

His mouth was on hers so fast she hardly had time to prepare herself, his arms wrapping tightly around her. She flung her arms around his neck, pulling him as close to her as possible. The kiss was not soft or sweet or comforting. It was hard and sloppy, teeth and tongues knocking together as if they were trying to devour each other whole. And she wanted to. She wanted it so that they would never have to be a part again. She could feel his fingers pressing bruises into her hips and the back of her neck but it only excited her. She arched up into him, conscious of nothing that didn't involve the feel of him against her.

She could do this. _They_ could do this.

"Beth?"

Her name drifted into her ears like something out of an underwater dream, distant and muddled. When it finally processed, the familiar voice made her stomach lurch. Beth tore her lips away from Daryl and reluctantly peered over his shoulder to see her sister and Glenn standing behind them hand in hand, mirrored looks of surprise and utter disbelief on their faces.

* * *

They sat on one of the benches around the pond in silence under the night sky. Beth was waiting for Maggie to say something first. She'd done nothing wrong and saw no need for a frazzled, half-formed defense. More than that she'd fought a lot of battles today and wasn't sure she had it in her for round three. She wanted Maggie to be happy for her happiness and hoped that this conversation, while necessary, would prove to be a positive one. However when Maggie finally turned to her, her furrowed brow indicated the opposite was coming.

"What would Daddy say?"

Beth closed her eyes and prayed for patience. Of course her opening argument would be bringing their dead father into it. "That's irrelevant."

"How do you figure? You don't wonder what he'd think?"

"Of course I do!" Beth snapped. "Every day I wonder what he would think about a lot of things. But he's dead, Maggie. So I'll never know. And there's no use worrying myself sick over it either."

Maggie quickly turned her gaze back out over the water, her profile radiating displeasure.

"I don't understand what the problem is," Beth continued. "You _like_ Daryl."

"Of course I like him," Maggie replied. "Daryl is a good man. But… he's so much older than you."

"Is that really the only reason it bothers you? God, Maggie you make it sound like he's some creep in a white van."

"I'm surprised it doesn't bother you."

"Why should it?" She was genuinely asking. The age difference between her and Daryl hardly ever occurred to her, and never once had it bothered her. As far as she was concerned the idea of love having an age limit was a useless social convention they were all better off without.

"Because it just should," Maggie said. "That's not the way you were raised."

Beth rolled her eyes. "Is that a genuine objection or are you just trying to make me feel guilty?" Maggie said nothing making Beth strongly believe it was the latter.

"I was raised to treat everyone with kindness and respect," Beth continued, angling her body toward her sister and enunciating her words so that there would be no chance for miscommunication. "To see the good in people and love that goodness no matter who or what they were or where they came from. Besides, you're so worried about what Daddy would think if he were here but he was ten years older than Mom, and two years older than yours. So that kind of shoots that argument in the foot."

"But Daryl's not Daddy! He's good and loyal and brave sure, but…"

"There is literally nothing else that I could ask for," Beth interrupted calmly, not bothering to smother the smile that made her eyes crinkle. If her sister was trying to make her rethink her relationship by painting Daryl in a poor light she was doing a terrible job.

Maggie took a deep breath, pausing to stare down at the hands lying in her lap. Worry pulled at the corners of her mouth and scrunched the skin above her nose like an accordion, and Beth felt a long absent wave of compassion for her big sister. She didn't want to upset her.

"But will he stay, Beth? Daryl is all of those things, things that I want for you and honestly would expect nothing less of from any man you chose. But Daryl is who he is, and he was that person long before he came into our lives."

As much as Beth didn't like it, Maggie's words had more than a glimmer of truth in them. "He's here now," she said simply. It wasn't the best or most assuring answer, but it was the truth.

"It isn't hard to see that he's uncomfortable here. I'm worried what it will do to you if he can't be here."

Beth frowned. She hadn't really thought about what she personally would do if Daryl decided he didn't want to stay in Alexandria. But the answer came to her easily enough and she told Maggie the truth. Her sister's face usually so striking and passionate seemed to fold in on itself, withering like an un-watered flower, and Beth realized she'd just announced her sister's true fear. That the instant she'd seen them together she'd known that Daryl would somehow take Beth away from her.

"You would really leave all of this? All of us? To go out there and live an unguaranteed half-life for a relationship that hasn't even really started?"

"Hasn't even started? You told Glenn you loved him after what? Like three days?"

Maggie dismissed the comment with a wave of her hand, but even in the relative darkness it was easy to see the color in her cheeks deepen. Her silence was as much of an admission of guilt as it was a struggle to accurately explain her concerns.

Beth took a deep breath. "Me and Daryl aren't a new thing, Maggie."

And then she told her sister everything.

She started with fleeing the prison and searching for survivors despite Daryl's reluctance, about her singular, selfish quest to find booze to numb the pain when the outlook of that search became bleak. How that led them to the moonshine shack and all the things they'd told one another in the midst of anger and grief. She talked about Daryl teaching her to track and hunt and the funeral home, how that moment when he looked at her like something special over jars of jelly and warm two liters of diet soda was the moment she knew something very different than what she'd expected to happen was happening. And how that feeling and the man attached to it had helped her survive what came after.

She also told her about the hospital, the things that she'd seen and been forced to do. How she'd gotten her scars, what Gorman had done, the nightmares that came to her at any time of day. She talked about meeting Daryl after everyone had gone to sleep once they'd arrived in Alexandria, trying to figure out how to be together in this place and how her demons had sent him running in the name of doing the right thing. Some of the details she kept to herself, some because she wanted to protect her sister and other better ones because she was simply unwilling to let them exist outside of her and Daryl. Maggie listened patiently through it all, shades of panic and pain and understanding flickering across her face in rapid, rolling succession.

When Beth was finished she felt lighter, not because it had been a secret but because it felt so good to finally talk about. She turned to Maggie expectantly but for a while her sister said nothing, staring intensely down at the surface of the pond in thought.

"I get it," Maggie said slowly. "Or at least I can understand it."

Beth looked at her with wide eyes. "You can?"

Maggie nodded. "Sure. You two were out there alone for weeks, depending on one another, helping each other survive. And after everything at the prison… it makes sense that you'd turn to each other for comfort, too."

Beth felt a frown tug at the corners of her mouth, the balloon of hope that had been rising in her chest quickly deflating. She shook her head. "But that's not…"

"But now, Beth? You two aren't alone anymore. We have this place! And you don't have to rely on only Daryl for food or shelter or protection, you have an entire family of people who love you and are ready and willing to be there for you…"

"You know that whole relying thing went both ways, right?" Beth snapped.

Maggie raised a hand and sighed, clearly not eager to restart the yelling. "Of course. But you understand what I mean, don't you? You see how crazy this whole thing looks from the outside?"

She thought back to every moment with Daryl the past couple of months. Every glance, every conversation, every promise unspoken or otherwise that had been made. It didn't feel crazy to her. From the very beginning it had felt exactly right.

"I know who I am with Daryl," she tried to explain. "He sees me."

"I see you, Beth," Maggie said fervently.

"No, you don't. You see the sister you used to have, the one you think you can get back if you just keep looking for her. But that's not who I am anymore, Maggie. Not entirely. And as good as your intentions may be, you refusing to see that… I feel like I'm constantly letting you down by being myself." Beth sighed, every ounce of fight drained from her body. She was so tired of hating her sister, of being the bitter, unforgiving person she'd never thought she was. "I love you... I will _always_ love you. But you don't understand. You don't see."

Maggie stared at her with glassy eyes, worrying at her bottom lip. "I'm trying," she whispered.

Beth nodded, reaching out and lightly grabbing her sister's wrist. "I know," she said simply.

"I've seen you two, you know," Maggie said a beat later. "Ya'll aren't as slick as you thought. Never anything quite as… obvious as what we walked in on back there. But it wasn't hard to tell you two were different, and it was even less hard to guess the reason why."

"Why didn't you say something sooner?"

Maggie sighed. "I mean I didn't _know_. Not really. But I guess I was waiting for you to tell me."

She didn't ask Beth why she hadn't, but Beth heard the unspoken question anyway. "I was mad, Maggie. And hurt. You gave up on me. I didn't want to share anything with you that might make me forget that."

Her sister screwed her mouth to the side, nodding slightly down at her lap. "I'm sorry Beth. I'll never stop being sorry for what I did."

Beth slid her hand down and wove her fingers through her sister's, forgiving her with a firm squeeze of her hand. They sat that way for a while in the quiet, looking out at the dark houses and black water. The silence was a stark contrast to their earlier ones, born from understanding and forgiveness rather than stubborn anger and guilt, and a sense of peace hummed throughout Beth's body. After a while she saw Maggie turn to look at her out of the corner of her eye and slowly returned her gaze.

"Just answer me this one last question, and then I promise I'll never bring it up again," Maggie started.

Beth sighed but nodded for Maggie to go on.

"Are you happy?"

Beth smiled and nodded, unable to find the right words to describe just how happy she was. Maggie squeezed her hand one final time and nodded back, a slightly bemused smile gracing her mouth.

"Okay," she said. "Okay."

* * *

Daryl was waiting on the front porch steps when they returned, a dark, huddled shape against the warm yellow light filtering through the front windows. For a moment the sister's stood still at the foot of the stairs, elbows hooked together. It seemed like Maggie wanted to say something and Beth eyed her expectantly. She was surprised when Maggie slowly let go without a word to either of them. But she reached out as she passed Daryl on the stairs and gave him a lingering squeeze, a silent blessing that made Beth's heart swell with love for her sister and caused the corner of Daryl's mouth to quirk slightly up as well.

She waited until the front door closed behind Maggie before climbing the stairs. The steps creaked softly under her weight as she sat down beside Daryl, sighing with exhaustion.

"Do you think I broke Aidan's nose?"

Daryl chuckled and reached for her hand. "No. You got him good though." She winced as he spread her fingers wide, noting the stiff ache that caused them to tremble slightly. He gently checked each knuckle and finger with his calloused thumb, briefly massaging the pain away. "Good news is you don't appear to be broken either."

Beth smiled into his shoulder, twining their fingers together with some difficulty.

No, she thought to herself. She most certainly was not.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Reviews are loved. (:

xo, kaitiebee


	25. Bad News

It was a beautiful fall day; the sun a ball of butter in the turquoise sky that stretched overhead, vast and limitless. Daryl tried to enjoy it, taking deep breaths of the crisp, clear air while beside him Beth told him stories from her day. He didn't hear much of what she said, focused as he was on not dissolving into a puddle of guilt. Because every day brought him closer to leaving with Aaron and he still hadn't found the words to tell Beth he was doing so.

They sat together on the front porch of the vacant little house they'd found, having agreed to meet there after both classes at the school had let out for the day. Despite the unfortunate events that transpired inside of it the first time they'd visited the house had charmed Beth, wrapping her in a spell that Daryl didn't understand but loved to see. She continued to talk about it and drag him to it, simply being near it putting a smile on her face and a dreamy look in her eye. They met there a couple of times a day, using the space as an escape from the suggestive smiles and teasing remarks their family members had yet to tire of.

When they'd followed Maggie inside that night, the majority of their family was there, lounging about the kitchen area and living room. The hum of their quiet conversations came to a halt as he and Beth stood in the entryway side by side. Neither of them said anything but Daryl could feel their eyes focusing in on their joined hands, their tangled fingers succeeding in sharing the news. Which, if the soft, knowing smiles and "Fucking finally!" muttered by Abraham from the kitchen were any indication, was hardly news at all. Beth chuckled at their approval, a self-conscious flush spreading over her cheeks as a couple of people applauded and Rosita whistled. In the moment Daryl couldn't find it in him to be embarrassed, however, a surprising feat for someone as normally self-conscious and touchy as himself. Right then, with her hand in his and his family's support he had everything he'd ever wanted.

Their news had been nothing, however, compared to Maggie and Glenn's dinnertime announcement the following day.

Glenn, Tara, and Eugene were to leave the next morning with Nicholas and Aidan for a supply run to a tech warehouse about thirty miles south that would likely take the entire day. Eugene and Deanna had apparently spoken about finding replacement parts for a dysfunctional solar panel whose absence was causing occasional power outages in several homes. In lieu of this, their first significant parting since joining Alexandria, Maggie called everyone together for a family dinner.

Daryl had come straight over from Aaron's, having spent the bulk of his day working on the bike. His hands were black with grease and dirt, the sharp, oily smell clinging to his clothes and hair. He'd made a beeline for the dining room and whatever delicious smells wafted towards the front door, and then proceeded to grumble audibly when Carol met him halfway and sent him upstairs to wash up. It was only dinner after all. Who cared if he was dirty?

But walking into the dining room minutes later, his hands pink and freshly scrubbed, Daryl was mildly impressed.

Maggie had managed to squeeze fourteen chairs around a table meant to seat ten. She had draped a spotless white cloth over the tabletop and set it with matching blue and rust colored plates. The overhead lighting had been dimmed—presumably for ambiance—and two flickering candles placed near the center of the table cast glimmers of yellow light onto the silver bowl of the spoons and sharp fork tines bedded neatly on the napkins beside each plate. A pot of seasoned rabbit stew sat in the middle of the table on a pot holder shaped like an apple, tendrils of pungent, silver steam rising up over the table. One whiff set Daryl's stomach to rumbling and he took a seat between Beth and Tyreese, eager to dig in.

There was a cacophony of clanking dishes and indistinguishable chatter as everyone's bowls were filled and the strange winter-greens salad that Daryl thought resembled tossed lawn clippings and yard waste was dutifully portioned out onto each plate. Once everyone had been served Maggie cleared her throat.

"Before we start, I just wanted to say a few words," she said as a pleasant hush fell over the table. "First off, I want to thank you all for coming tonight, for adjusting your schedules so that we could be here together. It seems strange to think that not eating together like this has become our new normal, but I suppose that's a normal we should all be grateful for."

Around the table people nodded and smiled in agreement. Alexandria and its leader's demands certainly kept them busy. Truthfully Daryl hadn't thought about it much, too wrapped up in his own worries and personal drama to notice that they hadn't been together as a group in several days.

Across from him Maggie exchanged a look with Glenn who merely smiled and reached over to grasp her hand. A mischievous glint lingered in both pairs of eyes. "I called you all here, not just because Glenn and Tara and Eugene are going on a run tomorrow, but because Glenn and I have some news."

Daryl heard Beth's sharp intake of breath beside him. He glanced over at her worried something was wrong but she paid him no mind, her slightly widened eyes staring fixedly across the table at her sister.

Glenn said, "A while back we had a conversation about the future, about what we both wanted our lives to be. And then, after we came here and saw what the potential this place has and how it could really make those things we talked about a reality... I don't know. It just felt to us like our decision made sense. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it was intentional. And while we didn't expect it to happen as quickly as it did, we're really excited to be able to share this with all of you."

With a nervous smile Maggie took in a deep breath and said, "We're pregnant."

A different kind of quiet fell over the table as the surprising news sunk in, thick and humid like the air before a summer storm. It was clear no one knew what the appropriate response was, even if Glenn had just said that this was something they wanted. But Glenn could barely contain the proud smile twitching at the corners of his mouth and Maggie looked around the table, eyes wide and expectant, and her face alight with hope that, despite everything this could mean, they would be happy for her.

The sound of a chair scraping across the floorboards broke the silence and beside him Beth stood, untangling herself from the tablecloth and letting her discarded napkin float to the floor. She made her way around the table before throwing her arms around her sister, her silent, powerful congratulations bringing tears to Maggie's eyes and relieving the tense spell that had momentarily suffocated the group.

There was a flurry of hugs and handshakes, plates rattling against the table top as more chairs were pushed back and people stood to offer their congratulations to the would-be parents. Daryl reached across the table and slapped Glenn on the shoulder but remained seated, watching Rick and Carol at the head of the table carefully. Their histories regarding pregnant women and children in this new world were hardly positive. But if either had any opinions about the news they kept quiet, merely exchanging an unreadable look with one another.

A moment later Rick stood and raised his water glass and others followed suit. "To Glenn and Maggie," he said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"To Glenn and Maggie," everyone echoed.

The good news was overwhelming, the comfort and unbridled happiness of the group practically tangible. Beth had tears in her eyes, so thrilled was she. And even though he knew better, Daryl wanted desperately to believe that it was the lasting sort, a before kind of happiness that they wouldn't have to fear being ripped away. Because of this he was loathe to spoil the mood with his news, to bring even an iota of darkness back into their moment of bliss.

Not to mention Beth had been making plans of her own. She hadn't said a word to him about it, but he could see them, whatever they were, dancing behind her eyes when she looked at him, or when she gazed up at the house they now spent their free time together at. Normally it wouldn't have bothered him; her hope and ability to find delight in the strain of their everyday life was one of his favorite things about her. But the knowledge that his news would in completely alter her plans made him feel worse than terrible.

If Beth sensed his distress or found his increased brooding silence this particularly gorgeous afternoon alarming she said nothing about it. She grabbed his hand instead and sidled up to him, gazing up at the sagging porch roof with a far off look in her eye. It felt a little strange to be with her in the middle of the day, touching, without the cover of darkness for anyone to walk by and see. But it was also liberating, and Daryl couldn't help but think—as he had been doing since the moment she'd admitted she'd heard him when she was unconscious at the hospital—that his world made some kind of sense again. And if it weren't for the voice in his head pestering him to tell her that he'd assumed the role of Alexandria's second recruiter, that their happy reunion did in fact have a time limit, he would have felt something akin to happiness.

"I like this house," she declared suddenly. Her breath was a barely noticeable puff of steam and Daryl watched it drift up and dissipate before he replied.

"I gathered," he deadpanned. She lightly rolled her eyes, hardly bothered by his not-so-subtle mocking tone.

"It's got character. Hutzpah."

Daryl frowned at her. "Hutzpah?"

"Yeah," she laughed. "I don't know how everyone else can just ignore it. How they can't see what a nice place it really is."

"I see it," he said, his voice low. He felt her eyes on him, staring at him as he stared at the worn wooden step beneath his feet and he battled the heat rising in his cheeks.

"You know, speaking of which… I've been thinking about some things. Things I kind of wanted to talk to you about."

Immediately Daryl tensed, the hope in her soft spoken voice flooding him with guilt. Whatever she was thinking, whatever dreams she'd cooked up were like a balloon, and he was the needle poised—however reluctantly—to pop it. He supposed he should be grateful that the subject had come up organically, considering how he'd been wracking his brain for a natural way to bring it up that wouldn't feel like dropping a bomb. Ready or not, that time had appeared, all on its own.

"Yeah," he mumbled, shuffling his foot against a crack in the step. "I've got some things to tell you too."

Beth's smile was bright and gleaming in the muted afternoon light. "Oh!" She said, giving his arm a squeeze. "Okay then. You first."

He took a deep breath, fiddling with his hands and dreading what was to follow. "Couple days ago Aaron asked me somethin'… offered me a job."

She laughed again. "A job? Can he do that? Deanna assigns members jobs."

"Well, sort of. This one was specific to him."

Her smile dimmed. She said quietly, "But Aaron doesn't work inside the community."

"No," he replied, the instant worry in her voice making him feel breathtakingly small. "No he don't."

Daryl reached deep down inside, trying to find the strength to continue and watching as understanding darkened her eyes.

"I'm going to go with him," he said finally. "I'm going to be Alexandria's other recruiter."

Beth slipped her hands from his arm and wrapped them tightly around her torso, putting space between them on the creaking step. "For how long?" She asked stiffly, her gaze glued to her lap.

"I don't know. Until we need to come back I guess."

"No, I mean how long are you planning on being a recruiter?"

Daryl sighed, picking intently at the loose skin around his thumbnail. "As long as I'm able."

Judging by the look she shot him, this was not the right answer.

"After everything you're gonna leave? Just like that?" He merely looked over at her with a softened scowl. His eyes pleaded with her to understand, but for once Beth wasn't picking up on his nonverbal cues. She clenched her jaw. "When are you leaving?"

"Day after tomorrow."

For a brief second Beth looked as if she'd been punched in the stomach. "Thanks for the heads up," she muttered.

Daryl tried to explain. "He only asked a few days ago, the night you punched Aidan in the face. Between that, and Maggie and Glenn havin' a baby… you were happy. And I-I didn't know how to tell you 'cause I knew it would upset you. I was the reason you were unhappy before. I didn't want to be that again."

"You weren't even gonna talk to me about it first?"

"I didn't know I had to ask your permission," Daryl grumbled at the ground. It seemed pointless and needlessly hurtful to explain that she was the driving force behind his original decision to join Aaron, her absence making his life in this place unbearable. Especially considering how that absence was not something she had wanted in the first place.

"That's not…" Out of the corner of his eye he watched Beth shake her head as if she were warding off a pesky fly. He watched her hands clench over the mounds of her knees, her knuckles turning white with restraint as she took a deep breath to quiet her frustration. "But you talked about working in the motor pool!"

The motor pool was where the majority of Alexandria's working vehicles were housed, as well as where the ones from the outside that weren't working came to be restored or dismantled for parts. It was a small outfit located towards the back of the settlement and run by a man named Ray and his son Adam. They were Daryl's kind of people. A perpetual layer of grease lay embedded in the beds of their fingernails and the smell of metal and oil clung to their clothing at all times. Both were large, brusque, and relatively unfriendly, although their talent with motors and machines was something Daryl found almost artistic.

It was true that he had briefly considered volunteering his mechanical skills there, thinking it wouldn't be so terrible to spend his days bringing new life back to the metal shells that sat neatly lined up alongside Ray's garage and into his backyard. But that was before, when he was still trying to force himself to fit into the mold this place had carved for him.

"They don't need me," Daryl said. "Aaron does."

"He has Eric!"

"He don't want Eric to do it anymore. Not after the last time."

"So you've been nominated to risk your life instead," Beth snapped, the words clipped and biting. "You're the one who gets to go outside, being hunted and starved, putting yourself in harm's way over and over again. And for what? For the possibility that you might find someone only half-crazy to drag back here?"

She obviously felt betrayed by his choice, as he had assumed she would be. Still he felt her sudden and uncharacteristic lack of empathy like a slap in the face and replied in his own clipped, biting tone. "He asked. I said yes."

"Why?" She cried, throwing her pale hands up in the air in exasperation. " _Why_ would you say yes?"

"Because I can't stay here Beth!" Daryl admitted. The words tasted like failure, but he pushed on. "I can't… _be_ here all the time. This place, it ain't the same for me as it is for you. Or any of you, for that matter. I can't just shack up in some fancy-ass house, pretend to work a 9-5, come home to eat dinner with the family. That ain't me. That was never me."

"It doesn't have to be that way if you don't want it to," Beth said. "No one's trying to force you be something that you're not."

He shook his head. "This feels right. It…It's the right thing to do."

"Daryl we finally found someplace that's safe. Someplace we can _live_. Why are you so ready to turn your back on that?"

"You know as well as I do that ain't true. This place ain't any safer than the farm or the prison or any other place we've pretended was. These people are weak and spoiled and stupid. They have no idea what's really out there or how to protect themselves, and the second what's out there realizes that this entire place will go up in smoke."

"And yet you're willing to bring more people back behind the walls. To protect people that you claim to have already written off."

For a moment Daryl said nothing, merely chewing on his bottom lip. He wasn't explaining himself well to her, and he supposed from an outsider's perspective the desire he had to leave Alexandria conflicted strongly with the job he'd agreed to do. But of everything presented to him this was the only thing that made sense to him. He could protect Beth and his family from afar by bringing back people who knew what they were doing.

"There are still people out there, Beth," he said finally. " _You_ told me that. Good people just like us who don't know this place is here, who can help Rick and Michonne and your sister make this place what you all want it to be."

"Maybe you're right. But those people don't need you. We do. _I do_."

In the pause that followed Daryl was momentarily struck by how beautiful she looked when she was angry. Her windblown hair hanging loose and wild around her face, the proud lift of her delicate chin, the petal pink stain of her china doll skin. And those blue eyes rekindled with passion and fire, the same fire that drew him to her day after day even when their flames were targeted at him. She was everything that he had never dared hope for, the realest, purest thing he had ever been a part of. Every brave, crazy, beautiful, frustrating part of her was right there within his reach, and it occurred to him in that moment that this decision he had made might be the thing that changed her mind about him and took her away.

"Beth." He spoke her name like an apology. Her body remained stiff but her lips quivered, the tiniest crack in her resolve. She closed her eyes, and when she finally spoke her words carried a lifetime of weariness.

"It's just… I thought that we were finally done with all of this."

"All of what?"

Beth sighed. "Saying goodbye. Being apart."

"I ain't sayin' goodbye."

A technicality and they both knew it. She rolled her eyes half-heartedly and he couldn't blame her.

"I ain't. And I ain't leavin' _you_ , Beth. I'm just… leavin' Alexandria. I'll come back."

When she reopened her eyes the questions lay heavy in the shades of blue. She didn't say a word but Daryl understood. He realized his practiced nonchalance, while meant to help make it easier for her to let him go, was only serving to hurt her instead. What if he wasn't back soon, or ever? What if the recruiting didn't go as smoothly as he promised? What if they didn't find any of those good people they both were trying to believe existed, only bad ones that made it impossible for him to return?

"Maggie warned me that you'd do this," she said calmly. "That you'd leave. She was worried what it would do to me if you left. Truth is she didn't have to. Warn me, that is. I've known since the day we got here that there was a possibility you wouldn't stay." It wasn't an accusation or fuel for her argument, merely a statement of truth. Still, Daryl felt it like a blade to the gut, the knowledge that both Beth and her sister had suspected this about him all along.

"I told her I'd go with you if it came to that," Beth continued. "That I'd leave this place behind and never look back if that's what you wanted."

He was surprised by the depth of her loyalty. It had never occurred to him to ask her if she wanted to come along. It wasn't a terrible idea. After all, Beth was just as good if not better than him at weeding out good people from the bad. Maybe if he spoke to Aaron…

"But now that we're here and this is actually happening… I don't think I can do that," she finished softly, regret and disappointment resting like a heavy hand on her shoulders and making them sag. When she finally met his gaze he could see the spark of anger fizzling in her eyes, and in its place was a sadness that made his stomach clench. It was almost as if she were embarrassed by the fact that she was happy here, ashamed by her willingness to keep trying to make this place a home. "I don't think I want to."

The world fell away as they looked at one another, a distant blur of meaningless shapes and shadows. Daryl felt like he was being torn apart at every seam, pulled in two different directions by the woman he'd chosen and the freedom he'd never wanted to give up.

The tense silence was broken by the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. He raised his head to find Carl bounding around the corner in a blur of skinny limbs, his head whipping back and forth as he scanned the cul-de-sac, clearly in search of them. Immediately Daryl's stomach began weaving itself into knots of apprehension, knowing whatever had sent the solemn-faced teenager sprinting after them was nothing good. Beth saw him too and stood, putting their conversation on pause as she made her way down the steps.

"You need to come," Carl panted from the road as they approached, the rubber soles of his boots squeaking and scuffing against the pavement as he slowed to a stop at the end of the path.

His voice was dry and brittle sounding, and the knots of worry tightened sharply in Daryl's gut. Beside him Beth whispered, "Who is it?"

"Tara," the boy replied. "Tara and Glenn."


	26. Always Too Late

A small crowd had gathered outside Pete the doctor's office when they arrived, strewn across the narrow porch. Beth paused at the foot of the stairs to catch her breath, trying to gauge the situation from the mirrored looks of concern reflecting across their faces. Maggie, having heard them approach, pushed off from the railing where she leaned and moved towards Beth.

Her sister's eyes were dry but red and she carried the worry for her husband in the tight angles of the forearms she'd crossed over her chest like a shield.

"Alive?" Beth asked breathlessly.

Maggie nodded and unearthed a sob. Beth pulled her into a tight embrace, feeling the pull of her clothing as her sister's hands grasped fistfuls of her jacket.

"What happened?" Daryl asked no one in particular.

All eyes turned to Eugene, who Beth hadn't even noticed was present, tucked away as he was in the dark corner beside the door. He looked pale and stricken, his bloodstained hands fumbling in and out of knots on his lap. She briefly wondered where Aidan and Nicholas were, if they too were inside with less serious injuries. Or, for that matter, where Deanna was. But Eugene cleared his throat and directed his story to Daryl and Beth, interrupting her train of thought.

"I suppose it ought not surprise anyone that there were walkers in the warehouse," Eugene began. "However, with the exception of a small handful roaming the aisles, the majority appeared to be locked behind a partition separating the storage facility from the business and office wings of the building. Glenn and Tara were of the opinion that the number was nothing our group as a whole could not handle should the situation for violence present itself."

At the mention of Glenn's name Maggie subconsciously tightened her grip on Beth's jacket and Beth felt her own heart begin to pound with suspense. She briefly wished that someone other than Eugene were able to tell the story, as they would get to the point much quicker and save her from turning inside out with wonder and worry.

"Tara and I found the equipment we needed relatively quickly and were on our way to meet Glenn and Aidan at the rendezvous point when there were several shots from the back of the warehouse. I didn't understand why as we had been given explicit instructions by Glenn not to fire our weapons inside the building. But then, quick as a flash Nicholas came bounding up the aisle Tara and myself were in, bringing him with at least fifteen walkers." He shuddered slightly, no doubt reliving the sight of the walkers barreling down the aisle towards him. "We outran them for a time, and were approaching the front of the warehouse when Aidan and Glenn appeared at the head of the aisle. Aidan told the three of us to duck and began firing his weapon in spite of Glenn's protests. I did not notice that several of the walkers were at one time soldiers and thus outfitted as such, but Glenn did. He must have observed the grenades on their belts and began yelling at Aidan not to fire, but either Aidan chose to ignore his orders or simply did not comprehend because he continued firing his weapon. Needless to say, he made contact with the aforementioned grenade and succeeded in blowing the four of us across the warehouse."

Daryl shifted beside her. "The four of you?"

Eugene nodded, his long dark hair falling over his shoulders. "That is correct. By that point Nicholas was no longer on the warehouse floor as he had abandoned the mission and the previously discussed protocol should shit go south."

"Where did he go?" Beth asked, feeling an unpleasant burn of hatred bubble in the pit of her stomach at his stinking cowardice.

"I do not know," Eugene replied with an apologetic shrug. "He fled the building, I assume through the door in which we entered. I strongly believe that if the keys were in his possession he would have gotten in the van and drove it away."

"And everyone else?" Carol asked from her spot along the railing.

"Tara was thrown directly into the corner of a shelving unit approximately fifteen feet away, which cracked open the back of her head and knocked her unconscious. I cannot say how I managed to remain relatively unharmed, but the blast merely threw me to the ground and knocked me out for a moment. When I came to, naturally I was disoriented, and the volume of the blast made my ears ring like an alarm bell. Tara was lying not far from me and I was able to come to her aid. The amount of blood was alarming, but I attempted to stop it. At that time I was not able to visually confirm Glenn or Aidan were alive, but as the blast had killed or neutralized the herd of walkers pursuing us I was able to concentrate on getting Tara someplace other than the floor without worrying they were being eaten alive.

"I had noticed an office while Tara and I were walking down the aisles and I intended to take her there. But then I heard voices and groaning two aisles to my left, so I carried Tara on my back to investigate. Both Glenn and Aidan were alive and present, I was relieved to find, however Glenn appeared to also be unconscious and the blast had propelled Aidan onto a piece of exposed rebar. He was pinned at least two feet off of the ground with the pipe protruding from his abdomen. The groaning I heard was in fact Aidan, who was coming to terms with the reality that he was both injured and stuck should more walkers come."

Beth exchanged a look with Daryl. It wasn't exactly a secret that she didn't care for Aidan, however Daryl knew exactly what had happened to cause that dislike. Still, it made her stomach drop to think of the pain he must have been in. She couldn't imagine being awake and able to feel your body being held up by a thick, steel pipe skewered through your stomach. It was not the kind of fate she'd ever wished for him.

"He begged me to help him down but my attempts only caused him to scream in pain," Eugene continued. His voice grew steadily strained, his usual emotionless, bulldog-like appearance withering with the memory of what he'd had to do. "There was no way to get him down by myself. I-I needed another able bodied person or bolt cutters, neither of which I had on my person. Eventually he was begging me to stop but as it was his screams had already succeeded in riling up the walkers in the back. I could hear them grow louder, the chains rattling as they beat and pushed against the grated door. Experience has taught us all not to trust a door to keep out walkers bent on destruction, and I began to panic. It was imperative that I return Tara and Glenn to the van but I could not do both at the same time and I was reluctant to leave either of them behind.

"However after some tense discussion Aidan had come to the conclusion he was not going to get down from the wall. He had a 9mm at his waist that he had me hand him. He assured me that he would protect Glenn until I returned should the walkers manage to break free… and he kept his word. I managed to carry Tara outside and get her in the back of the van and returned for Glenn. As I lifted him over my shoulder I heard the gate break open in the back and the walkers began to pour through. Aidan yelled for me to get out and promised to hold them off. I was outside when he began to fire… there were four pops. Then just screams."

Beth grimaced. Aidan may have been a lot of displeasing and unlikable things, but it couldn't be said that his last act hadn't been both brave and admirable.

Just then the front door opened and all heads turned towards it. Pete appeared looking worn out and frazzled, a direct contrast from his usually impeccable physical presentation. Even his yellow-blonde hair was sticking up in tufts. Maggie rushed forward with round, hopeful eyes as the doctor slowly pulled off his blood tinged latex gloves.

"Both head wounds were moderately severe," Pete announced without preamble. "Tara has an eight inch laceration from the back of her skull extending down her neck which required twenty-six stitches, and based on the bruising and severe swelling of her right cheek it is likely she fractured her cheekbone. Glenn's bruised and bloody, likely concussed. He's going to wake up with a massive headache, and he might suffer from some temporary short-term memory loss. But I won't know any of that until he wakes up, nor do I know how long that will take. They're both still out, but you can see them now."

Everyone surged forward, eager to lay eyes on their injured friends.

"One visitor per patient," Pete ordered gruffly before turning on his heel and returning to his work.

Maggie and Rosita both followed after him, shutting the dove-grey door with athunk that audibly rattled the curtained panes of glass on either side of it.

The tension outside was tempered by the fact that their family members, while not out of the woods yet, were both alive and breathing. Beth climbed the stairs and went to sit beside Eugene. She'd heard it said that sharing your woes was a way to alleviate a number of negative emotions, but this did not seem to be the case with Eugene. He looked worse than when he first began to speak.

"Are you okay?"

Eugene nodded stiffly. "My wrist is rather stiff where I landed on it, but otherwise yes, I am quite well."

Beth sighed, semi-amused. She placed a hand on his arm and squeezed. "Does Deanna know?"

More blood drained from his face and he squeaked, "No. Spencer was at the gate when we drove up. He went to find them." Beth felt for him. There was no right or easy way to tell a mother that her son had died.

"Thank you, Eugene," she said after a moment.

Eugene looked up at her, eyes wide with alarm. "Please don't."

"Why not?"

"I would prefer no one offered up their gratitude to me. I do not deserve it."

"But Eugene…you saved their lives," Beth whispered. "We all want to thank you for what you did."

"No," he replied sharply. His ample chin began to shake and his dark eyes watered. "I regret to inform you that I was as cowardly as Nicholas. I did not want to save them. I _wanted_ to run. It all seemed so hopeless… I did not believe that I could successfully return Tara, Glenn, and myself to the van before the walkers broke through that partition. There was a moment where I could see the light outside from the open door, could see blue sky and smell fresh air and… and I told myself I would have sufficient time to fabricate an excuse for their demise."

Beth took a deep breath. His words angered her but she had to remind herself that he hadn't acted on them. He had chosen to save his friends instead of following the instinctive, self-preserving urge that called for him to leave them behind.

"But you didn't do that," she said. "You chose to risk your life to bring them home. That's what's important Eugene. Not that you were afraid or that you wanted to run away, but that you chose to stay."

He ducked his head but not before Beth saw a tear, shiny and clear race down his cheek. Her heart ached for him and she looked away, leaning back against the side of the house. She left her hand on his arm, however, the only comfort he seemed willing to accept.

In the quiet rapid footsteps could be heard approaching. Those standing at the porch railing turned their heads.

"They're coming," Sasha said.

Spencer appeared first, slowing to a stop at the foot of the porch steps. His confusion barely outweighed the panic sparking in his eyes. Behind him following at a slower pace were Deanna and Reg.

"What happened?" Deanna gasped, her eyes flitting wildly from person to person. "Where are they? Where's Aidan?"

Eugene took a shaky breath and stood, rising slowly, as if it took every ounce of strength he possessed. His first steps were heavy and reluctant. Still, Beth noticed the way his usually slumped shoulders were pulled back and his head held high with what she presumed to be a sense of duty. All eyes were on him as he made his way down the narrow porch, and Beth too kept her eyes on his back until he reached the top of the stairs, blocking out the light.

* * *

An hour and a half later dusk had fallen and neither Maggie nor Rosita had reappeared with any news. Some people had left for food, others for sleep or to fulfill their community responsibilities until only Beth, Daryl, Rick, Eugene, and Michonne remained.

Beth leaned heavily on the railing beside the steps, her eyes glazing over the street and the wall behind it. A square of yellow from an upstairs window stretched out on the lawn, growing brighter and more pronounced the closer night fell. Beth felt a pang every time she looked at it, knowing that room was where Deanna and her family had been ushered so that they might be alone with their heartache.

Deanna's grief was absolute. She'd crumpled against her husband when Eugene told her of Aidan's demise, as if the ground beneath her feet had vanished. The cries that left her throat were pure agony, unleashed from some raw, primal place deep down inside of her. They'd been able to hear her wailing even after Pete's wife Jessie had escorted them inside the office, the terrible sound muffled by walls and windows but heard just the same.

Beth felt boards move under her feet and Daryl appeared, leaning against the railing beside her. He kept a slight distance between them but she could feel the heat from his skin. The day that had started out so beautiful had taken a strange turn and she longed to fold herself into his embrace, but their earlier conversation kept her from doing so.

"You okay?" He asked.

Beth shrugged. "I guess."

Daryl nodded. "He'll be alright. They both will."

She knew that. Glenn, not unlike Daryl, was always alright. Somehow, someway.

"I'm sorry, Beth," Daryl said in the silence that followed. She looked over at him, fighting the tears that sprang to her eyes at the gentle tone of his voice. "I'm sorry for not telling you."

"I know," she said.

She knew she was being difficult—not to mention selfish—about the whole thing. Because _of course_ he was going to go with Aaron. Daryl wasn't the kind to stay put or locked up behind any kind of walls for very long. She'd known that from the very beginning. It just seemed wrong, somehow, that they could have made it through so much and come so far only to be ripped a part by choice rather than circumstance. Thinking this, further protests formed at the base of her tongue of why he should stay, why he couldn't go and leave her behind. But she swallowed them back when, sudden and loud, her father's words rattled through her mind to remind her of the painful truth.

 _We all have jobs to do._

"It's the right thing to do," Daryl repeated. "I need to do this."

Beth knew he was right. She did. But the fear that something would happen to him out there was so dark and real it was keeping her from thinking straight.

"Of course it is," she said, reaching out and giving his arm a too-forceful squeeze she had meant to be reassuring. The look in his eyes told her he knew what she was doing, that she didn't quite mean it. She swallowed and stepped out of his reach. "I have to go. I… Maggie's probably hungry. I should bring her something to eat."

"Beth…"

"I'll see you later," she said over her shoulder as she hurried down the porch steps and out into the street, thinking only of getting away from him so that she might figure out a way to get a handle on the fear spreading through her body like ink in water.

The streets were blissfully empty and quiet in the grey light settling down over Alexandria. Beth took her time, choosing the longest route back to her house and taking slow, leisurely steps, her arms crossed tightly at her chest.

The fear for what might happen to Daryl once he began recruiting had solidified in her gut, massive and impossible to pretend didn't exist. But alongside it was hurt. Hurt because she had thought that she would be enough to make him stay. The thought was a breathless secret that she'd kept tucked away behind her heart in the hope that protecting it would make it come true. But now, the knowledge that it hadn't and she wasn't made her feel incredibly small and stupid. More like the naïve little farm girl she had thought was long dead than the woman she'd fought so hard to become.

Beth knew with every fiber of her being that what her and Daryl had was the lasting kind, that between them they had created happiness. But how could they be that if he was never here? If she had to make it here alone, in a constant state of worry, making the lifetime she dreamed of out of the handfuls of days when he was actually around?

A door slammed shut up ahead and Beth lifted her head sharply with surprise. On the other side of the street she could make out Rose climbing down the stairs of her front porch, her disfigured hand clasped around small, pale fingers belonging to a girl named Cassie. The child's face was difficult to make out but her hair was unmistakable, long, tight ringlets the color of a ripe pumpkin that glowed like embers in the early-evening light.

Beth liked Cassie. She was an orphan about eight years old, shy and withdrawn but incredibly bright. She said very little to anyone and had a difficult time performing academically. However she was a voracious reader and seemed to find solace in books, and Beth remembered Rose mentioning that the girl would be spending a few evenings a week in her home simply for access to the books she possessed. Seeing them now, Beth realized that Rose was likely walking her home before darkness fell.

Rose raised her free hand and waved when she spotted Beth walking in the opposite direction, her arm swaying over her head like a branch on a windy day. A cheerful smile stretched across her face in greeting, dazzling and white even in the fading light, and Beth managed a closed lipped smile in return. Normally she would have crossed the street and conversed with the pair of them, or hollered out some kind of acknowledgment. But the past couple of hours had been a whirlwind. She still needed time to collect herself.

As she continued on her path, mindlessly passing house after house, she realized she was getting nowhere and made the decision not to think about Daryl for the time being, prioritizing her worries to Glenn and Tara. She thought it was rather cruel of her not to think of them when they were the ones in danger, lying broken on hospital beds, and she chastised herself for letting her own personal drama trump a much more important one.

She was thinking of what she could bring Maggie and Rosita for dinner when a panicked yelp followed by a shrill cry of fear pierced the calm evening. Surprise burst like a firework inside Beth's chest, but it was the chorus of multiple walker's growls accompanying the shriek that made her blood run cold. She whirled around, squinting in the dim light to make out where the noise had come from, only to lay eyes on Rose and Cassie, down the street and being quickly surrounded by five stumbling walkers.

They looked surreal standing there in the middle of the road where no walker had ever been before, groaning towers of rotting flesh and bone bent on devouring whatever living thing they came across. Beth's instincts screamed _danger!_ but her mind worked much slower, struggling to understand their presence. It was supposed to be impossible. They had a watch schedule. They had armed guards and secure walls and a gate with one entrance…

 _Spencer_. Realization washed over her like ice water, causing the breath to catch painfully in her throat. Spencer was supposed to be on gate duty and he was at the doctor's with Deanna and Reg.

Only another frightened squeal from Cassie was enough to bring her back to the present. Beth shook herself free from the dense cloud of confusion and disbelief fogging up her mind and hurriedly released her knife from where it had lay dormant for so many days on her hip. Finding her voice she screamed, "Run, Rose! Run!"

She sprinted back the way she'd come with knife in hand, watching as Rose herded Cassie behind her and tried to find an avenue of escape in the circle of walkers staggering towards them. Beth pushed her body as fast as it could go, yelling for both Rose and Cassie to run. That and the sound of her footsteps pounding against the pavement was enough to pull a single walker's attention towards her.

 _That's it,_ she thought as she barreled toward it. _Come and get me._

Through long, filthy dark locks of hair it locked its milky eyes on her and with a high-pitched snarl broke slowly away from the group nearing Rose. Through the remaining bodies and flailing limbs Beth could see glimpses of Cassie's hair and the gentle curve of Rose's wiry arms reaching out behind her to keep the girl away from the walkers. Having managed to pull one away, enough space had opened up behind Rose that Cassie could slip through and make her way towards Beth.

"Rose! Behind you!" Beth shouted as she jammed the blade of her knife into the breakaway walker's forehead.

She could just make out Rose's arms pushing Cassie through the opening, her deep, pleasant voice brittle with fear as she told the girl to run towards Beth. Cassie did as she was told, her bloodless face streaked with tears. Beth pulled her knife free and jumped over the walker that fell at her feet, resuming her sprint. She reached her hand out as she ran, stretching her fingers wide towards the girl.

Behind Cassie she saw Rose push one walker down, only to have another latch onto her outstretched arm and clamp down. The woman cried out in pain, her eyes squeezing shut as she tried desperately to wrench her arm free. Grief clawed at Beth's throat and she too cried out, watching helplessly as another walker sauntered over, stepping in front of Rose and blocking Beth's view of her.

Anguish gripped at her heart knowing the frail old woman didn't stand a chance, but Beth kept moving. She had to focus on Cassie. Cassie could still be saved.

She had barely completed the thought when a stray walker stumbled out of the space between the two houses on their right and snatched Cassie up into its arms, a blur of grey and brown that wrapped around her like a vine. Beth lurched forward, her voice screaming non-sensical sounds she had no control over, but the walker paid no attention to her. It dipped its head down and sunk its teeth into the flesh of Cassie's neck.

The volume of her surroundings faded into a solitary, high pitched whine. With a gasp Beth stumbled to a halt as the world narrowed, shadows black as ink clouding her vision and tunneling around her like smoke.

 _Too late,_ a voice inside her head hissed. _Too late, too late, always too late._

Whole seconds passed before she realized the sound she heard was not some phantom ringing but Cassie screaming as the walker tore into her flesh. The high-pitched manifestation of agony and pure terror from someone so small was like a blade slicing through Beth's soul, so potent and painful that it threatened to send her to her knees.

For a moment time stood still. There was nothing and no one but the sound erupting from Cassie's mouth. Beth could feel it in her bones, shrill and desperate, making her shake.

It felt like a lifetime later when a surge of adrenaline forced her back into the fight. Beth stumbled forward on legs that didn't feel like her own, pulling her elbow back and bringing her blade down on the walker feasting on Cassie's face. It was too late, she knew, but they needed to die. There were still others to protect.

Beth mowed through the remaining walkers on auto-pilot, feeling as if she had left her body and were watching from outside of herself. The panic and fear had burned away, leaving behind grim focus and the sour taste of helplessness as she stabbed each one through the head, the squishing and crunching sound of her knife not nearly loud enough to drown out the sounds of Cassie's scream, now silenced but still resounding inside her head. Those that remained paid no attention to her, too absorbed feasting on Rose.

Before long she stood panting in a ring of fallen walkers, both her hands and face sticky and wet with blood. With shaking hands she re-sheathed her knife, feeling a semblance of disbelief as she stared down at the bodies lying at her feet. She'd watched it happen, heard their screams and felt them die. But it still didn't seem quite real.

Rose groaned and Beth stumbled over the fallen corpses towards her, her steps jerky and unbalanced. She fell to her knees when she reached her, scooping up her mentor's limp hand in her bloodstained fingers.

"It's okay, Rose," she tried to soothe, eyes glazing over the grizzly bites down her arms and shoulder that she could no longer do anything about. "It's over. It's over now."

"C-Cassie?" Rose sputtered.

Beth glanced over her shoulder at where Cassie lay still on her back. Her pencil-thin limbs sprawled out in unnatural angles, like a hairless baby bird fallen from its nest. Unseeing blue eyes stared at the space over Beth's shoulder, already haunting her with their vacant accusation. The half of her face angled towards the pavement was perfectly intact, as unmarred and delicate as a china doll. The other half was a mess of tattered flesh and blood, the muscle of her cheek clearly exposed and dripping blood into the cavern of her parted lips. The walker that had claimed her life lay still beside her. In its teeth a wisp of orange hair fluttered in the cold breeze that blew, lifting up like a flame towards the slate grey sky.

Beth bit back a sob, grateful that Rose wasn't strong enough to lift her head to see. That she would never have to know what that looked like.

She turned back to her mentor, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"She's safe."

Rose closed her eyes with relief and gave a jerk of a nod. Her body was shaking with the pain and fear, and she didn't try to say anything else.

Beth was distantly aware of people arriving from all sides, her name being called, the sound of footsteps pounding against the asphalt as they came running.

 _Too late. All too late._

Beth tightened her grip on Rose's hand, compensating for the way the kind, wise teacher's own grip continued to slacken. Her mind flashed to Noah and how she'd held him in her arms as he'd died, felt his very life slip through her fingers like water.

 _How many times?_ She wondered. _How many times do I have to do this?_

She heard herself earlier, frantically trying to keep Daryl with her by claiming that this place was a haven, without which death would surely claim them.

 _We've finally found a place that's safe,_ she'd said, believing every word and desperately wanting him to believe it too. _Someplace we can actually live._

But, she realized now, that was a childish notion. Death had figured out a way to get in anyway, as it always did and always would. She was a fool for ever thinking that it wouldn't.


	27. Aftermath

Deanna's house reeked of grief. It was a sharp and cloying scent that made every breath of air stick inside Daryl's lungs, choking with its intensity. He could feel it against his skin, a dense, invisible fog that glided soundlessly into every corner and crept up the walls like ivy, hung from the light fixtures, and threw itself over each piece of furniture like a sheet.

Deanna looked one breath away from keeling over. The fog rested heavy on her shoulders, pressing a dramatic curve into her spine. She gripped the back of the couch in response, all her weight resting in her thin wrists while her unfocused and red-rimmed eyes peered through heavy, drooping lids from behind the video camera. The trademark and resilient force behind her every move had been snuffed out, leaving behind an exhausted, empty shell. Although Daryl hadn't exactly warmed up to Alexandria's fearless leader, it was unsettling to see her so visibly broken. He suspected that if a strong wind were to blow, they'd all be able to hear the whistle as it passed straight through her.

He wasn't entirely sure how they'd ended up here. Not in Deanna's living room… that he understood perfectly and he was plenty pissed about it. His confusion stemmed more from how a day that had started fairly normal had ended with so much unprecedented destruction. He supposed reality had done what it always did. It tore through their lives like a cyclone, sucking them up into its violent swirl and spitting them out on their asses, bruised and bloody and blindsided.

He'd felt plenty bruised when Beth walked away from the hospital and left him standing alone on the porch but he hadn't tried to stop her. He hadn't watched her walk away either, sure that doing so would have forced him to give into the small voice in the back of his head that begged him to go after her, to tell her that he'd changed his mind. He'd stared down at an unimpressive gouge in the railing instead, letting the buzz of nighttime and the quiet hum of conversation between Michonne, Sasha, and Eugene fill his mind until he could no longer hear her retreating footsteps.

Feeling simultaneously antsy and pinned down by the day's events, he had been thinking about going for a walk when the high-pitched scream tore through the still, cold air. A startled spasm rippled through his body and he jerked his head in the direction of the noise while behind him Michonne and Sasha stood abruptly, their eyes too scanning the shadows. It was hard to tell if the sound had come from inside the gates or out of it, but tension coursed through his limbs all the same, holding him on high alert. Another scream followed by the unmistakable growls of more than one walker and Daryl and his porch companions burst into motion, hurrying down the stairs and sprinting towards the sound.

It didn't occur to him until his feet hit the pavement that Beth had taken the same route home. The familiar ache of fear flooded his veins. He wracked his brain trying to remember the exact pitch and tremble of her scream, hoping to convince himself it wasn't her up ahead. However all that came to mind was the sound of her quiet, broken sobs in a long ago memory, her standing over a child's empty shoe and the remnants of what was once human, an abandoned railroad track stretching behind her in either direction.

Despite his fear-or perhaps because of it-he ran faster than the others and arrived at the scene first. Fallen walkers lay in the middle of the street, lifeless lumps that resembled piles of rags and trash in the rapidly fading light. As he drew closer, the sharp smell of blood permeated the air and mingled with the stink of rotten corpses, so strong he could taste it in the back of his throat. The figure of a child was visible at the edge of the haphazard circle, lying face down in a small, black pool. Beth was at the center of it all, crouched beside the schoolteacher, clutching her limp, brown hand with both of her own.

Daryl leapt over a walker and fell to his knees beside her, his stomach churning with relief. Beth was a mess of splattered blood but it was not her own; he realized she was responsible for the dead walkers scattered around them. Her cheeks were flushed pink with cold under the scarlet specks and smears.

"Beth? Beth, answer me."

She said nothing and continued to stare down at the old woman's face, absentmindedly stroking the top of her hand. Alarm bells chimed inside his head at her silence and outward calm. Beth felt everything, sometimes too strongly. That her eyes were dry in the immediate wake of a personal loss surprised him.

He called her name a third time. When she didn't respond he reached out and gently pried her fingers free from their grasp around the schoolteacher's hand. She started at his touch, her eyes flitting to his, and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

"What happened?"

She blinked. "They died." It was a statement of fact, delivered as if she was neither surprised nor all together bothered by the statement's truth. Daryl nodded and slowly pulled her to her feet.

He was distantly aware of Michonne and Sasha picking through the fallen walkers with their weapons drawn, inspecting the rotting, emaciated bodies to assure their final deaths were permanent. Michonne crouched by the little girl to their left, her deft fingers pressing gingerly against the ghostly pale column of her throat. She caught Daryl's eye and shook her head.

More footsteps approached from the direction of the hospital, voices rising with alarm. Over Beth's shoulder he watched as Rick, Deanna, and her husband came into view. Rick looked concerned but unsurprised. He barreled into the mess, unfazed by the bodies he stepped over to get to Daryl and Beth and survey the damage. Deanna and Reg stopped short, however, round, shocked eyes scanning the dead from the periphery.

"What happened?" Deanna cried, her voice shrill with distress.

Beth turned in his arms to face her. "They died," she said again.

Those two words seeming to knock the breath right out of Deanna and she flattened her palm against her chest, wavering on her feet. Reg draped his arm across her shoulders and pulled her close, his pale, lined eyes staring grimly at the red-headed girl from behind the round frames of his glasses.

From there they had been ushered to Deanna's house at her insistence for an interview and despite Daryl's loud and adamant protests that Beth needed to do no such thing. The others cleaned up the mess in the street, disposing of the walkers and preparing Rose and Cassie's bodies for whatever ceremonial burial they'd have. Daryl hadn't thought to offer his services, focused solely on removing Beth from the site of the slaughter and all evidence of it from her body.

Nicholas was there when they arrived, sitting across from Spencer in the living room in the blue chair Deanna had her interviewees sit in. Nicholas averted his eyes from them as they passed and Daryl scowled, irrationally irritated at the man's inability to show any kind of backbone or accept responsibility for the consequences of his cowardice.

He'd led her upstairs to Deanna's bathroom, pushing open doors with a careless hand and leaving behind fingerprint smudges on their white surfaces until he found the right room.

"Hop up," he said, nodding at the countertop.

Beth did as he she was directed, sliding back on the smooth white surface to the right of the sink while he looked for a towel in the linen closet, her dry eyes cast down at the fraying knees of her old blue jeans all the while.

The blood painting her skin red looked even grislier in the bright, artificial light glaring from decorative sconces on either side of the mirror she leaned against, fresh enough it still had a shine to it. Remembering his nightmares of her face dripping with her own fresh, crimson blood he turned on the faucet and thrust the washcloth in his other hand under it, desperately eager to erase it.

Slowly he'd wiped the blood from her face and hands. Diluted droplets of blood dribbled down the white bowl of the sink every time he squeezed it out, staining the pristine surface with rust colored streaks. But he paid them no mind, wiping the cloth along her jawline, over her wrists, in the silky-soft valleys between each knuckle. It was a surprisingly intimate, almost peaceful thing, he realized. Time seemed to slow, and in those hushed minutes it didn't matter that she was mad at him or that he'd quite possibly ruined them in the process of finding a way out of Alexandria. In that warm, quiet space none of their problems existed. He wrung the cloth out and wet it again, pressing its nubby face under her eyes.

Her clothing had not been spared in the battle, and he eyed the large sections of her shirt that were soaked through with blood. Daryl set aside the soaking, crumpled cloth and reached out with the intent of taking it off so he could clean her up. Still he hesitated at the hem, both hands hovering at her hips.

He had no way of knowing if or how many times Beth had let a boy reach for her shirt with the intent of exposing herself to his eyes. But he did know Beth, and because of that he was certain he was the first. She looked up at him for the first time since they'd come inside, her expression unreadable. After a moment she raised her arms, wordlessly agreeing or permitting, her eyes softening.

A tiny part of him felt cheated. That this moment they were supposed to have, that she deserved to have and that he'd imagined so differently was happening in this way, but he pushed it down, the need to take care of her overpowering every other thought and urge.

He pushed up her shirt, revealing the porcelain-pale skin of her stomach inch by inch. His fingers grazed up her sides and the ridges of her rib cage—trying unsuccessfully to banish the thoughts that whispered how smooth her skin was—before pulling it over her head and tossing it onto the floor. She shivered lightly as the air met her skin and her arms drifted back down to her sides. Her hands resumed their grip on the edge of the countertop but she sat up straight and this time she didn't look away from him.

She was so pretty. He knew it wasn't the time or the place but he also wasn't blind. Every bit of her the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and his senses were on overload with just how pretty she was. He felt the pressing need to say something, to do something meaningful or romantic or just plain normal, anything other than stare at her. But words failed him as they often did, and amidst the heady buzz her half-naked beauty sent rolling over his skin was a debilitating wave of embarrassment. Just as heat began to creep up his neck he saw the corner of her mouth twitch in the ghost of an appreciative smile. With a self-assured nod he picked up the washcloth and resumed his duty.

When he was satisfied not a drop of walker blood remained on her skin, he wadded it up and dropped it into the sink. He took off his vest and the shirt underneath it, holding out the long sleeve button down he'd layered over a dirty grey tank top. For a moment Beth looked confused, but a quick glance at her plain black bra and exposed stomach silenced any question she might have had. She couldn't walk downstairs and sit in front of Deanna's camera like that.

He slipped the vest back on while Beth slid her arms into the sleeves of his shirt, the fabric whispering audibly gainst her skin. Daryl helped pull it over her shoulders, straightening the collar and rolling the ragged black cuffs up over her wrists. It was like putting a sack on a twig, but it would do for the time being.

He fumbled awkwardly with the buttons at the bottom of his shirt, the smooth edges he'd had no trouble with that morning slipping in and out of his calloused fingertips as he moved up the shirt. When he reached for the second to last button Beth's fingers wrapped around his wrists, holding him in place just under her collarbone. She leaned closer with a sigh, her head falling forward against his chest. Daryl could feel her exhaustion. Her body was heavy with it, as if her bones had been replaced with lead, her muscles with stone.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He circled his arms around her. "You're welcome."

There was a pause, a single breath of silence. Then her shoulders began to shake under his hands with soundless sobs, tears dribbling down his chest like rain on a windshield. Her breath came in short puffs of damp, hot air against his skin.

"I'm always too late," she said helplessly, gripping his vest tightly with both hands. "Why am I always too late?"

Daryl hadn't had an answer for her. Killing those walkers had saved other lives, but he knew better than to tell her that. She wasn't ready to see past the two lives that she hadn't saved. He'd merely held her tighter, wishing he could wipe away her sadness and wring it out in the sink as easily as the blood on her skin.

Voices from downstairs rose and fell in wordless waves as Nicholas' interview continued, the closed door a buffer between them and the things neither of them cared to hear. Before long it grew quiet, and when the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs began, Daryl knew their time together was almost up. Beth tensed in his arms and he knew she heard them too. She took a deep, shuddering inhale and peeled herself slowly off of his chest, as if it took every ounce of strength she had to do so. Her hands released their death grip on his vest and she ran her fingertips over her cheeks, removing the damp tracks of her sadness in one broad, hurried swipe.

Standing there now, in a room suffocating with fresh grief and secondhand sadness, he found himself wishing they could go back to hiding in the bathroom alone. Rick, Michonne, Maggie, and Reg were also waiting for Beth to give her statement about Rose and Cassie's deaths, spread throughout the shadowy corners of Deanna's living room. Spencer lingered on the staircase in the foyer, a spot he'd claimed during Nicholas' interview and refused to relinquish for Beth's despite Daryl's vocalized opinion that what Beth had to say was none of his god damn business.

Beth sat on the interview chair Nicholas had vacated before their arrival, her eyes cast downward on the plush, colorful rug beneath her feet. The room was lit only by a slim, ornamental lamp on the table beside her. In the muted yellow light he could see blood that he'd missed: a dark smear hardening at the end of her ponytail, lines of black encrusted under her fingernails.

She didn't fidget and her eyes remained dry but her reluctance to participate was clear. Daryl didn't understand why an interview had to happen now or why it was so damn important that everything be archived. What kind of sick bastard would want to remember this in the first place? What good would this do for the future of the community?

He sat as close to her as he could while keeping out of the camera's eye, leaning against a heavy looking lacquered desk piled with long, waxy papers that curled over one another. A disinterested glance revealed them to be some kind of plans, overlapping scribbles of pencil and ink pen, measurements and lists, arrows and labels all drawn in Deanna's undecipherable handwriting.

There was a solitary beep as Deanna pressed a bony finger to the record button on the video camera. She cleared her throat and lifted her hollow gaze to Beth's face.

"Tell me what happened."

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"Everything," Deanna said. "I need to know everything you saw, everything you heard, everything that you did."

"Why?"

"Because it's important. It may not seem like it right now, in this very moment. But it is. So please, Beth… just tell me what happened."

Beth let loose a long, slow exhale. "I was walking home from the hospital. It was getting late and I was worried that Maggie and Rosita might be hungry. On my way I saw Rose across the street, leaving her house to walk Cassie home. Cassie went over there sometimes to read Rose's books. She loves… she loved to read."

She lifted her eyes to Deanna's. Her voice was quiet but steady, reporting the facts she was asked to deliver. Only Daryl could see the slight shake in her hands, clasped tightly together and resting on her lap.

"You didn't stop to talk to them?" Deanna asked.

Beth shook her head. "I wasn't really in the mood to talk. They went one way and I went the other. I was at the top of the street when I heard Cassie scream. It startled me. I turned around and I… I don't know how long I stood there before what I was seeing made sense. Because they shouldn't have been there. I don't think I wanted to believe that they really were. But they were and they were real… and they were surrounding Rose and Cassie so fast."

"The walkers, you mean."

Beth nodded.

Based on where the massacre had taken place, Daryl figured the old woman and the girl had made it to the end of the street where it curved into another block, as far away from Beth as they could possibly have been before they were out of sight from one another. Untrained and unarmed, paralyzed by fear they'd had little experience with from living behind these walls and they hadn't stood much of a chance. It wasn't Beth's fault she hadn't gotten to them in time no matter what she-or anyone else-thought.

"How long did it take you to get to them?" Deanna asked.

"How-how long?"

"Yes, how long? Twenty, thirty seconds? A whole minute?"

Beth shot a fleeting glance at Daryl, clearly taken aback by the strange question and the unprecedented sharpness with which it was delivered. "I… I don't know, Deanna. I didn't count."

"Well think. It's important."

Anger simmered in Daryl's chest. Beth had taken care of a problem and yet was being treated like she'd caused it. He didn't care who she was or who she'd lost, he was not about to let Deanna take her grief out on Beth. He pushed off of the desk, clenched fists hanging at his sides, the nasty, biting words piling up on his tongue. Without breaking eye contact with Deanna, Beth unfolded the hands in her lap and held one out, her open palm hovering flat over her thigh. A sign telling him she was fine, that she could handle it.

"It was probably fifteen seconds from the moment Cassie screamed to the moment I was near enough to start taking out the walkers."

"Did you see where the walkers came from?"

"Abraham and Holly are out doing security sweeps," Rick announced from his spot against the doorway to the foyer. "Tobin and Carter are out there as well."

"They came from the west," Beth said. "From the gate."

"That's impossible," Deanna muttered, glaring behind her at Maggie and her husband as if they were the ones responsible. "Who was supposed to be on gate duty?"

Maggie exchanged a look with Rick and her mouth flattened into a sympathetic line. "Spencer," she said.

Those who could see him turned their eyes to Spencer on the stairs, a dark lump just visible through the snow white railing. He shook his head and his voice, quiet and raw, floated through the adjoining rooms.

"Eugene said… I thought Aidan was in the van. He said that they were all hurt and I-I ran after it. And then to find you and Dad. But I shut the gate! I swear I did. It just must not have latched properly."

"Why didn't you call for someone to cover for you?" Rick asked.

Spencer's jaw quivered, his eyes wide and pleading for understanding from the people staring mercilessly at him. "I wasn't… I didn't think. I couldn't."

His carelessness was like nails on a chalkboard, each warbled word grating violently against Daryl's nerves. Beth was perfectly capable and had handled herself well. But accidents happened even in Alexandria, especially when the number of walkers was greater than the number of people fighting them. She could just as easily have died out there trying to save Rose and Cassie and it would have been all Spencer's fault. Daryl fought the urge to stomp across the room and throttle Spencer, to drag his incompetent, thoughtless-self off of the stairs and beat his face into an unrecognizable pulp in the entryway.

The whole room held their breath waiting for Deanna's reaction. But Deanna merely stared at her son, her face expressionless, not a drop of anger or understanding to be seen. Without a word she turned her focus abruptly back to Beth, her hair fanning out and slicing through the air like a blade.

"So you heard Cassie scream. Then what happened?"

"I took out my knife and ran towards them," Beth said. "They didn't have any weapons on them, so I tried to get them to run but either they couldn't or they wouldn't. I don't really know."

For the next five minutes all eyes remained on Beth as she dutifully reported the rest of the story, describing the way the old woman and child had died, each walker that she'd killed. She answered each of Deanna's increasingly biting questions with a collected calm. It was only when Deanna asked her how she'd managed to kill so many all on her own that her voice took on an edge.

"I was the only one there," she replied, a disapproving frown twitching between her eyebrows.

"It seems like a reckless decision to me. To attempt something like that all on your own."

Beth's eyes narrowed at the subtle note of blame in Deanna's voice.

"No one was coming to help me. You really think I'm the only one who heard Cassie scream? Who heard Rose cry out when those walkers latched onto her arms? Not one person came out of their homes to help. Are you suggesting that I should have waited and left Rose and Cassie to fend for themselves?"

"No, of course not," Deanna said. "I just meant that there were more than a few walkers. I wonder why you didn't yell for some help. More people could have distracted them or helped free Rose and Cassie. Not to mention that you could have died, too."

"Yes. I could have. But I would rather have died trying to save them than cower in my living room and watch them be eaten alive through the curtains."

Deanna had the decency to look cowed by Beth's harsh words.

"I killed those walkers because it was my job to kill them," Beth continued. "I did it because I had to."

Deanna nodded in silent acquiescence. The cold, bitchy front she'd put into play during the interview was quickly bleeding away and being replaced with her earlier grief. Squaring her shoulders she took a deep breath.

"Alright," she said as she reached for the camera. "Thank you Beth, that will be all for tonight."

"We need to talk again about allowing guns on the streets," Rick said from the corner as the camera clicked off, his voice a low rumble.

Deanna's frown deepened and her shrewd, red-rimmed eyes filled with tears.

"I just lost my son," she said, her voice like shards of glass in a blender. "I don't want to discuss this right now."

"You did," Rick nodded, stepping forward. "You did just lose your son. And I'm sorry for that. There aren't words for the mountain of pain you're feeling. I know. But Alexandria— _your_ community—just lost two of its own. An old woman and a child inside of the walls, on the streets you claim are safe. And they died because they weren't trained. Because they didn't know how to protect themselves."

"It is a terrible thing, losing them. But putting a gun in the hand of every other man, woman, and child inside the walls won't bring them back."

"Of course it won't but-"

"They are a danger that will only cause undue chaos!"

Daryl supposed a woman in Deanna's position had to have a higher level of pragmatism than the ordinary person. However, that she could still believe with every fiber of her being that guns were the problem and not part of the solution blew his mind. In light of all the lives lost in the past six hours, her adamancy just sounded callous and ignorant, born more of weakness than strength. He watched Rick tilt his head to the side while the mask of restraint he had placed there in respect for Deanna's mourning slipped quickly away.

"How can you say that?" He asked incredulously. "How can you believe that after everything that just happened without them? The world is dangerous and not everyone can be saved. But this? This could have been prevented."

Deanna stood tall and straight, her chin held a notch above stubborn, and shook her head fervently. "I will not authorize the carrying of guns in this community because of one unfortunate incident. The minute we do that, the very second we allow the fear out there inside of these walls to take us over is the second that this entire place is lost."

"Your people can't defend themselves Deanna!" Rick spat. "It's already lost!"

Rick was right. Daryl knew that both he and Michonne had been trying to tell Deanna this from the very beginning. Not only that something like this was bound to happen, but that eventually someone from the outside would try and force their way in. And then, with no guns and no training, they'd be slaughtered like sheep in their pretty homes.

"I won't see this place turn into some armed compound!"

"That's the only way to protect it!"

Deanna's voice shook, although it was hard to tell if it was from anger or desperation. "There is a better way," she said. "There is always a better way!"

Rick rolled his eyes. "Don't be an idiot Deanna. This is the only way."

Deanna raised herself up to her full height, her face hard and sharp as she raised a pointed finger at Rick's face. "You will not bring guns into these streets. Do you understand me? I'd rather die than see children running around with guns holstered to their ankles like child soldiers. Do you have any idea the accidents that will occur if we do that? The kind of people they will grow up to be?"

Rick went very still, his head tilting ever so slightly to the side, and Daryl tensed in anticipation of his next move. "I don't know," he replied. "Why don't we go ask Cassie?"

A chill like an arctic wind descended upon the room, so powerful it seemed to suck the air out of everyone's lungs. Maggie cringed and Michonne turned towards the window to hide her face. It was hard to tell in the dim light, but Deanna looked a little green. Daryl watched Beth carefully for signs of a breakdown but she merely let her eyes drift close and sat eerily still.

"Rick," Reg said, speaking for the first time as he came up to lay a supportive hand on his wife's shaking shoulder. The warning was spoken softly, but clear.

Rick's face held so much tension Daryl momentarily wondered if tiny rips would begin to appear, necessary fault lines to relieve the anger bubbling underneath his skin. Finally he shook his head at the floor in disbelief, placing his hands on his narrow hips in frustration.

"You two are delusional," he muttered.

"What's delusional about wanting this place to be better?" Deanna cried. "About seeking out a life that's different than what goes on out there?"

"Because out there is here!"

All eyes turned to Beth who hadn't moved from her perch on the chair. Daryl could tell by the dazed looks on their faces that they'd forgotten she was there. The yellow lamplight threw shadows across her face, sharp stripes of darkness that hid her exhaustion and guilt but made sparks of light glitter in her flinty gaze.

"Out there is here," she repeated. "Don't you see that?"

"It isn't. It isn't the same."

"Deanna. It's exactly the same. You may not want to believe that, but it's true." Beth shook her head, a sad, shallow smile stretching across her face. "You know, despite my better judgment I believed you when you said we could be happy here. That the things I wanted could come true. I believed you when you said that this place was safe. This place was _supposed_ to be safe. It was supposed to be a place we could start over. But… you people don't know anything. You have no idea what you're doing. And that wouldn't bother me so much if the people I love hadn't agreed to go out there for this place, for you even, only to come back broken because of your people's collective unwillingness to adapt. You can tell yourself the world outside these walls is different and that that's why people get hurt and die, but that doesn't explain why people we love are dying ten steps from their front doors."

She trailed off, shifting her gaze to the hands in her lap and catching her breath.

"You once told me every day was a gift that we shouldn't squander," she continued. "If you don't do this, if you don't accept the gift you believe that each day is, take action, and change you will die. This entire place will die. And then all of it... the walls you built, the no-carry rule, the people we've lost… all of it will have been for nothing." Beth pushed herself of the chair, her eyes shining with tears Daryl knew she didn't want to be seen. "We all have jobs to do, Deanna. Do yours."

Without another word Beth headed for the door. Maggie reached for her, her face twisted with concern.

"Let her go, Maggie," Daryl said. Beth shrugged out from under her sister's hands and stalked towards the front door, slamming it behind her with a ferocity that rattled the window panes.

The silence she left behind was so powerful it felt alive, pulsing through the space between the room's remaining occupants like a heartbeat. Rick looked like he wanted to add more to Beth's impassioned speech, but Michonne closed her eyes and silenced him with a subtle shake of her head. Daryl joined his family as one by one they gathered their belongings and exited the house without a single word of goodbye, leaving Deanna's family alone with their grief and Deanna alone with Beth's words.


	28. Revelation

The graveyard where they buried Rose and Cassie was a small, grassy lot wedged between the wall and a curving line of closely planted pines. It was a typical affair: each body was wrapped in a shroud of white and lowered into their allotted square of earth, to be tucked in later under a blanket of hard, rust colored dirt. A bank of thick silver clouds hung low over the gathered crowd, huddled together in a solitary mass of holey mittens, ratty jackets, and misty-eyed grief. Father Gabriel stood in the grassy space between the graves and led the service, a weathered bible open in his palms.

Although there were open spaces available amongst the assembled mourners-several of which were her own family members-Beth watched the proceedings from the edge of the lot, halfway hidden behind a pine tree whose sharp green scent tickled her nose. Some of Gabriel's words got lost amidst the shuffling and sniffling of the bereaved, his eulogy and condolent blessings morphing into unintelligible murmurs of sound. But she did not move closer. She was there only because it felt wrong not to be; she'd already said her goodbyes holding Rose's hand in the street, and she didn't care to hear what Gabriel had to say about the pain of a meaningful life cut short, about the will of God or how their untimely deaths served as a harrowing reminder to love one another. They were just hollow reassurances, a cheap band-aid that didn't have the power to fix what was irreparably broken.

Each new death was like an amputation, and the sudden absence of someone she'd grown attached to a phantom limb of the heart that surprised her each time she reached for someone who no longer breathed. No amount of prayer or whispered words from a man in a collar were going to change that.

Across the cemetery the service drew to a close. Father Gabriel shut the bible and as he crossed himself an amen rumbled from the bowed heads in response. Beth took the opportunity to disappear, stepping behind the barrier of pines before anyone could notice her and turned in the direction of the hospital to visit Glenn.

Her brother-in-law had finally awoken in the inky, ambiguous hours where dawn and night bled together. Much to everyone's relief he had a firm grasp on the memories Pete had warned he might lose, and despite being battered and sore would recover fully.

Despite the early hour she was not the first to arrive at his bedside. In addition to Maggie-who as far as she knew had yet to leave his side-stood Abraham, Michonne, Sasha, Eugene, and Carl, all circled around the bed like sentries. Beth shed her outerwear by the front door, breathing in the smell of antiseptic and freshly laundered linens. The group adjusted their positions, exchanging silent, greeting smiles and parting ways until a space opened up beside the bed revealing Glenn to her.

Glenn looked like he'd lost a fight with a wood chipper. Red gashes of varying lengths and depths adorned his face and arms, trenches scored by the flying debris that hurtled through the air after the grenade exploded. Beneath the countless white butterfly bandages was a sea of bruises, splashes of violet and indigo painted like a savage watercolor over the canvas of his skin.

Before she could say a word to him her eyes darted over her shoulder to the neighboring bed where Tara lay, breathing steadily but unconscious as stone. Compared to Glenn Tara looked relatively unharmed, and if one didn't know better it could be assumed that she was enjoying a restful morning nap. Rosita sat beside her with a book in her hand and her knees pulled up to her chest. She glanced over the ridge of her cheap paperback at Beth, and in her eyes poorly concealed worry pooled. She shook her head, a silent answer to an unspoken question, and returned to her book.

"Hey Beth," Glenn said as she sat down on the bed.

"What'd I tell you about these near death experiences?" Beth chided.

Glenn smiled, although with his swollen cheek and split lip the effect was more of a half-hearted grimace. "To stop having them."

She patted his hand. "It might be a good idea if you listened."

"Maggie would agree with you."

"Most definitely," Maggie agreed brightly. She brushed a strand of shiny black hair off of his forehead, revealing more of a vicious bruise that extended into his hairline. "You keep coming back looking like an eggplant and our baby will think that's just how your face is."

"Well the eggplant is one of the better looking vegetables."

"Fruit," Eugene said. "The eggplant is a fruit."

"I think technically they're berries," Carl said.

Michonne grinned down at him. "And how would you know that?"

"I do know some things."

"Well," Sasha chuckled, "fruit, vegetable, or mineral there are worse things he could look like."

"Yeah, he could come back lookin' like a potato," said Abraham.

The jokes and soft laughter continued but Maggie and Glenn had exited the back and forth. Glenn entwined their fingers and pulled Maggie's hands to his lips, a gesture both reassuring and apologetic. Not even the slight wince of pain the motion caused him could diminish the love in his eyes as he gazed upon his wife. It was a beautiful moment, and yet Beth had to fight the sudden, self-pitying urge to cry.

 _Pull it together,_ she told herself. _This isn't about you. You don't get to get upset._

Her father's words were usually just what she needed to hear to snap her out of whatever pity-party funk she'd fallen victim to. And yet somehow, this time the words weren't enough.

That Glenn could look like this when he'd only gone out for a simple afternoon supply run was fuel on the fire of her fears for Daryl. With a mission like Daryl's the possibilities of danger were endless and his demise seemed more and more likely. The image of Daryl in Glenn's place seared into her retinas, as clear and present as if she were actually looking at it. His body bruised and broken, perpetual scowl fixed in place, gruff and seemingly irritable as he accepted the visiting family members gathered around his bed. It felt like the only scenario she could hope for, only slightly more likely than being ripped apart by walkers or murdered by a group of bloodthirsty scavengers he'd been trying to save.

And if that was the best she could hope for, the only positive outcome of this decision he had made without her, then what was she supposed to do? What kind of choice did that leave her?

For the rest of the day Beth took her own advice and attempted to put away the feelings threatening to overwhelm her, replacing it with a brisk efficiency. She cared for Judith when Rick was called to attend to other matters, and after putting her down for a nap she tackled a list of chores she made up as she went along. She swept the front porch and followed up cleaning the already spotless kitchen with the laundry from both houses. She even mended the holes in one of Sasha's shirts and clumsily darned a pair of Carol's socks. When there was no item of clothing left to clean or care for, she turned her attention to the mud caked soles of her boots, scrubbing them with a dry brush until they resembled their original color.

The one thing she did not do was talk to Daryl. Not that he was around to talk to-he'd been holed up in Aaron's garage putting the finishing touches on his bike since the sun came up. Nevertheless, she tried to push him to the farthest, most unvisited corners of her mind in an attempt to avoid even the thought of him.

It didn't make sense, she knew, to avoid him when neither of them had done anything wrong. Especially with the way he'd taken care of her the night before in Deanna's bathroom. The thought of his attentive, gentle hands settling over every inch of her skin, and the look in his eyes as he'd done so that had both coiled her tight and unhinged her made the fact that he was leaving all the more painful. The memory of it made her yearn for something that had once been within her reach, but no longer felt possible in light of the events of the past twenty-four hours.

She sneaked away again late in the afternoon when the house began to fill with bodies and chatter, in search of the food and warmth they were denied most of the day at their various assigned posts. It was obvious that her family was growing used to living without a knife at their throats, and while it would be impossible to erase the memory of that cold, ruthless blade against their skin, the relative comfortability that accompanied having food to eat and some semblance of routine was settling in. Any other day Beth would have found pleasure in this fact and eagerly joined in. However today the collective mood filling the spacious rooms contrasted sharply with her own dark, twisted thoughts. And so, before anyone could engage her, she slipped out the front door and stole into the evening chill.

She wandered aimlessly through the streets of Alexandria with her head down, hands shoved into the deep canvas pockets of her parka. Here and there front porch lights glimmered, their muted yellow smudges clinging to the corners of her downcast eyes and guiding her way through the blue of twilight.

Only when the wall rose up in front of her did she stop. The road slithered underneath it, unhindered by the monstrous man-made object. Beth craned her neck towards its top, for the first time feeling both irritated and amused by the inconvenience of a barrier when all she wanted was to roam. She sighed, the heavy exhalation curling like silver smoke around her head. But there was no moving it or climbing it so she made to turn around. When she discovered her feet had taken her to the abandoned house at the edge of the community she froze in place, the muscles of her abdomen tensing like they'd just taken a punch.

Broken things had always called to her. She'd fallen hopelessly in love countless times before with the things the rest of the world discarded, fascinated by their history, the underlying beauty of their furious or delicate decay, the hope and possibility that what had fallen from grace could become whole again. It had been her hope that she and Daryl could finish what the previous owner's of the house had started and make it their own. That together they could build a home and a life from all that had been left behind to rot.

But, staring at it now with a more objective eye, all she could see was another weathered shell, worn out and sagging under the weight of its neglect. The peeling paint and abandoned spider webs taunted her while the opaque black windows glared mercilessly from their molding frames. For the first time the lonely little dwelling disappointed her senses and inspired nothing but pity. No one, least of all her and Daryl, would ever call the house home.

Still she'd loved it enough to have made a mark on it, brief and temporary though it might have been. If she looked hard enough she could almost see the pair of them, ghostly, transparent versions of her and Daryl sitting on the warped front steps: her bent over with hysterical laughter at something he'd said while he smiled at his lap, a mild surprise blooming over his features as if he didn't quite believe he was really there. Beth's eyes narrowed, trying to strengthen the image and feel once more the happiness and peace she'd taken for granted in that moment. But it faded away like mist.

That was the thing about this life, she thought as her feet carried her away from the house and towards the pond. The harder she tried to hold onto something the more quickly it seemed to vanish.

Her muscles ached with a fatigue she couldn't rightly attribute to her walk, short and slow as it was, but she collapsed onto one of the benches by the pond all the same, letting its weathered wooden frame support her slumped form. She remained there as night fell, spilling shadows across the water's surface until it rippled like a puddle of tar. The air around her grew colder but she paid little attention to it, hopelessly preoccupied by the sinking feeling in her gut that physicalized her dread at Daryl's departure, a feeling which seemed to intensify with every passing minute.

She made a concerted effort to sort through the layered and conflicting feelings fuzzing up her brain. She tried to shake off the cold and bleak mist of grief that seemed to have settled in her bones, to cool the red hot sparks of anger that hissed and sputtered every time she thought of watching Daryl ride valiantly off into harm's way. Underneath it all lay a thick, grey blanket of worry that threatened to suffocate. She tried to embrace the pain of being left behind, to ignore the doubts that crept up the back of her neck and clung to every attempt at positive thinking like ivy, but that only made the sparks of anger burn brighter.

It was in the middle of this particular thought that Michonne found her, the swish of her official police windbreaker rising over the gentle lapping of the water against the bank and alerting Beth to her presence before she appeared just inside her line of vision.

"That was some speech you gave yesterday," she said by way of greeting.

"Yeah," Beth said with a half-hearted smirk. "Maybe Deanna will start paying me to give motivational speeches."

A gentle smile turned up the corners of Michonne's full mouth. She gestured toward the empty space beside Beth.

"May I sit?"

Beth nodded, finding surprising comfort in the familiar way Michonne sidled right up next to her. Her warmth bled through her clothing and thawed the stiffness of Beth's limbs where they touched. She smelled spicy, like cinnamon and woodsmoke.

Never one for excess conversation, Beth wasn't surprised when Michonne kept quiet for a time. In the silence Beth resumed her watch over the water and her thoughts, much to her chagrin, returned to their previously scheduled programming. When Michonne finally did speak, it was not to speak more about Deanna like Beth expected but to apologize.

"I'm sorry about Rose," she said, her voice low and gentle. "And the little girl, too."

Hot tears sprang to Beth's eyes. She blinked them back furiously, surprised at their presence, feeling her eyelashes dampen with the effort.

"Thank you," she managed to say, forcing the hollow reply from her constricting throat. "She was a good woman."

"Does this mean you'll be taking her place as the teacher?"

"I guess so. I mean, I was before. So…" She trailed off with a shrug.

Michonne nodded. "What about Cassie's family?"

"She didn't have any. She lost her mother over a year ago out on the road to an illness of some kind, I think. And I heard Reg mention to Abraham that her father died in an accident on the construction crew last month. She was staying in the house the Lafferty's share with Mr. Carrick and his grandson."

Silence fell as they each pondered the misfortune of the little family neither of them had known. Beth didn't need a mind reader to know their thoughts, if left uninterrupted, would soon drift to the destruction of their own families, of the endless waves of pain and death and bloodshed that had torn their individual and shared worlds to shreds, in various circumstances, over and over again.

"It was probably better that it was Cassie," Beth continued. The words felt wrong to say out loud and her stomach churned with guilt at the mere thought. She was not usually one to think such things. "She was nobody's sister, nobody's daughter. She was as alone as she could be without actually being alone, and now that she's gone there's no one to miss her. No one to worry about her or mourn her passing until their own violent end."

Michonne's gaze cut through the dark, heavy with concern.

"But you're missing her right now, Beth. You're mourning her, not just because she lived here but because she mattered."

"Well I don't want to mourn her. Or anyone else."

"Ah," Michonne said after a pause, lifting her chin in understanding. "Anyone else."

Beth felt a stab of resentment that she was so easily read, but she didn't try and deny it. The thought of being forced to mourn Daryl, of him becoming yet another person she couldn't save, was too powerful.

"Daryl's leaving," she announced abruptly.

"I know, he told me and Rick this morning," Michonne replied. "He sent me over here, you know. He was worried about you. Although he seemed to think that you wouldn't want his company."

"I'm angry with him. I know I shouldn't be, but I can't help it."

Michonne nodded slowly. "People leave here all the time. Food and supply runs, scouting missions. It's what keeps us going."

"Finding more people isn't vital to our survival here. It's dangerous and stupid and I hate that he's doing it."

Michonne tried in vain to fight a smile from stretching across her face. "No you don't," she said kindly.

Beth felt whatever fight that had been building in her burst like a bubble. "No," she agreed with a defeated whisper. "I don't."

And she really didn't. Daryl's bravery and selflessness were two of the traits she loved best. Not to mention imagining a cowardly Daryl was like trying to imagine a purple sun or a cuddly porcupine, strange and pointless.

"So what's the real problem?"

"I… I thought that we were going to be happy," Beth said, feeling defeated.

"And you won't now? Who says that what you want can't exist?"

Beth shook her head. Michonne didn't understand. She'd let her guard down, become hopelessly enamored with the idea that, after everything they'd been through, they'd finally found a happy ending. Only to be told that happy ending was all in her head, a solo endeavor. Michonne had no idea what it felt like to hope for a future with a person who claimed he didn't belong in it.

"How can we?" She asked. "He doesn't want to be here. But that's where I am. Where we all are."

"I don't think it's us that he's leaving."

"He said the same thing. But it doesn't feel that way. How can you be with someone if you're never actually together?"

Michonne pondered the question. "You make the most out of the time you do have," she said after a moment.

"But that's just another compromise. I'm tired of compromising."

"Life was always about compromises, even before it ended," Michonne said. "And the thing is… we're all still here so it didn't really end. It just got harder. Which means the compromises we make sometimes have to be harder, too."

It wasn't what she wanted to hear but the words resonated in Beth's chest, a tolling bell of truth she'd be hard pressed to escape from. She felt something in her chest crack open under its weight, and from it words she had never spoken aloud came pouring out.

"After the prison fell and everything that happened at the hospital… there was this emptiness inside of me. A hollow in the pit of my chest that I tried so hard to fill on my own. And when I couldn't, I tried to pretend that it wasn't real. I told myself that because I was strong enough to have made it through that automatically meant I was fine. That I had no other choice but to be fine. But Daryl… not only did he see through all that, he filled that emptiness. With good things and bad things and happy and sad things, things that I had no idea I was missing and things I'd always wanted to feel. For the first time… I don't know." Beth paused to collect her thoughts and shook her head. "Loving Daryl is the first thing since all of this started that hasn't felt like a compromise. I'm not ready to give that up, Michonne. I'm just not."

Michonne raised her eyebrows and Beth blushed. She hadn't expected to say it, hadn't even known until the word left her mouth that she felt that way. But judging by the pleasant warmth buzzing through her limbs it was the truth.

The earlier disappointment combined with this strange new love she'd uncovered was rapidly morphing into fear, its sharp, overwhelming taste souring her mouth like she'd just been sick.

"I'm worried of what will happen while he's gone," she continued. "Of who or what out there will try and hurt him. And I know who Daryl is… how strong and capable and perfectly right for this job he really is. I know how good he is out there. But this fear and worry is like a drill burrowing into my brain and no matter what I try and tell myself that stupid drill just keeps whirring away, faster and louder with every passing second."

"Well that makes sense. But he won't be out there alone. Aaron will watch his back."

 _But I'm not Aaron_.

Beth wasn't stupid. No one out there was safe, no matter who they were with. But she and Daryl were a team. They worked well out there, together, and she didn't trust Aaron to do the job in her place.

More than that she was terribly afraid of the not knowing. Of the days and weeks it would take for them to return, each one filled with anxiety and fear, not knowing if he was hungry or tired or sick or hurt. He may not have been leaving her, but he was asking her to spend her days afraid for him, and it made her as angry and heartbroken as her foolishly blind faith in the safety of Alexandria.

"Look," Michonne continued, angling her body towards Beth. "I know I don't have to tell you this, but I'm going to anyway. No matter what happens out there, Daryl always comes back to us. Always. And now that he has you there isn't anything or anyone that will stop him from returning. He will come back to you, Beth."

Beth took a deep breath and reverted her gaze back out over the water, every fiber of her being humming with the need to believe what Michonne said was true.

"Do you really love him?"

Instantly their time together flashed before her eyes, a series of painful, exhilarating, beautiful moments that made her heart twist with longing. The first time she'd held him outside her cell at the prison and the hesitant, bewildered way he'd held her back. Falling apart together outside the moonshine shack, the heat of the flames against her cheeks as they raised their middle fingers to the starry sky and burned his demons to the ground. The memory of piggy-back rides through a graveyard of wildflowers, the sharp scent of smoke as they passed a cigarette back and forth, kissing in the dark living room with wine on her lips.

She saw every touch, relived every lingering look in the cab of a truck or over a smoking campfire, every stupid argument or whispered secret or lack of faith. They'd found each other when every odd was stacked against them, broken one another and built each other back up from the ashes of their former lives and created something few people ever got to experience.

Of course she loved him. She suspected that she always had.

Tears filled her eyes as she looked back up at Michonne. "Yes," she said.

Michonne smiled. "It's the scariest thing in the world, being in love. And I won't lie to you… it hurts like hell. That part won't ever go away. But, as I recall, a wise woman once told me that when you care about people hurt is part of the package."

Beth shot her a watery smile.

"If you want my advice," Michonne continued, "tell him. Not because it will make him stay, but because he should know. Don't let that worry and hurt make you afraid, Beth. Don't let it turn you cold. You both deserve better than that."

With her gaze fixed on her lap, Beth nodded and Michonne stood to leave. Before she walked away she placed her hands on Beth's shoulders and leaned down, the ends of her dreads brushing Beth's cheeks, and planted a kiss on the top of her head. The motherly gesture made a part of Beth ache for her own mother, but she closed her eyes against the pain and smiled gratefully.

Beth realized the buzzing thoughts and distracting feelings filling her up prior to Michonne's visit had settled, leaving behind only the subtle surprise of her own revelation. She felt slightly foolish for not realizing it sooner. She filled her lungs with the sharp, cold air in an attempt to calm the butterflies flapping furiously in her stomach.

They lived in an uncertain world and that would always make her nervous. But Michonne was right. She couldn't sit back and let someone she loved slip through her fingers in the present because of the possibility of sadness. Not when there was so much happiness still left to be had.

She stood, on shaky knees but with a renewed sense of purpose. She would not turn cold or aloof and call it strength. Her strength had never been rigid or unyielding, was not all or nothing. She was the one who hoped, the one who carried on when life was at its most frightening.

* * *

It was late and the house was dark when Beth returned, the sounds of sleep drifting under doorways and echoing softly in the shadow-lined hall. Beth parted it silently, walking gingerly on the balls of her feet up the stairs and towards Daryl's door at the end of the hall. A dim stripe of orange flickered under the door and spilled out onto the polished floorboards, so she knew he was awake. Still she lingered outside the door for a few moments, a different kind of fear than before simmering in her belly.

Michonne's words echoed softly in her head. _Tell him,_ they urged. _Tell him_.

Her heart hammered in her chest with the knowledge that whatever happened next was something she couldn't turn back from. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

Daryl's room was tiny, more like a few extra square feet with a window than a proper bedroom. The ceiling above the window sloped sharply upwards, making the space only big enough for a twin sized bed, a bedside table, and a worn leather armchair tucked in the corner by the door. Built in shelves recessed into the wall above the chair, with his sparse belongings—the clothes she'd brought him folded neatly in a pile, a foggy green stone, his knife, a collection of handmade arrows bunched together with a torn red rag—tucked away on the middle two shelves.

Daryl sat on the bed with his back against the headboard, his arms crossed loosely over his bare chest and his legs stretched out in front of him. He looked up when she slipped inside, his eyes narrowing slightly with surprise.

"Beth?"

She crossed the room without a word and climbed onto the bed, praying she didn't lose her nerve as she straddled his lap, pinning his hips between her knees. She took his face in both hands and leaned down to kiss him, the warmth of his skin like a burn against her stiff, cold fingers. Despite his initial bewilderment and the surely unpleasant shock of her icy skin, his arms wrapped around her and she felt the heat of his palm as one of his hands sneaked its way up her back, his fingers tangling in her hair. She deepened the kiss, trying with each brush of her tongue and squeeze of her hand to communicate how sorry she was for avoiding him, for being scared his bravery would get him killed and angry that his choice was taking him away from her.

When her lungs burned with the need for oxygen she broke the kiss, running her thumb up and down his stubbly cheek. She slowly opened her eyes to find Daryl staring at her looking slightly dazed, his eyes dark with something that sent a delicious thrill up her spine and brought the familiar sting of tears to her eyes.

"I don't want you to go," she whispered, her voice cracking with the tears she refused to cry, "because I love you. I love you more than I have ever loved another person... and I-I think that you love me too. And I want to you to be here with me so that I can love you for a very long time. But I understand that this place isn't yours yet, and I understand what it would cost you to stay. And while it took me some time to get there, I also know this isn't just something you want to do or feel like you have to do… it's something _only_ you can do. And I'm proud of you for doing it."

In the silence that followed she could feel the weight of her admission floating between them. She had no idea how many people in Daryl's life had told them they loved him, but she imagined it was close to zero. Daryl watched her closely, pinning her in place with that stormy look in his eyes that always made the world around her spin. Beth took a deep, steadying breath, using the pause to brush a surprisingly clean strand of dark hair out of his face.

"So instead I want you to promise me that when you leave here tomorrow you won't do anything too brave. You won't try to save people who don't want to be saved, you won't sacrifice yourself for strangers or even Aaron. Promise me right now that you'll be safe and that you'll come home."

Slowly he slid his hand from the back of her neck and cupped her cheek, tracing the curve of her scar with his thumb. His other arm tightened around her waist and pulled her flush against his chest where she could feel his heart under the layers of skin and hard muscle. He nodded, his eyes dark and serious, and one of the tears that she refused to cry trailed down her cheek and over his fingers.

"Promise me," she said again. She wanted to hear the words out loud, as if only the words themselves would truly bind him to it and return him to her. Her eyes fluttered close as his thumb slowly wiped the tear away and he pressed a soft kiss against her mouth, easing her lips apart. Her physical surroundings began to fade away, everything that wasn't Daryl a superfluous afterthought.

"Daryl," she breathed, insistent this time. " _Promise_ me."

Gently he reached up and brushed a wayward tendril of hair out of her face. "I promise," he said in a gravelly whisper.

Satisfied Beth pulled his mouth to hers again, the delicious need for him spiraling outward from her chest into the far flung corners and crevices of her body. His hands slid down her back, bunching the fabric of her shirt tightly in his fists. He pulled it up over her head and discarded it in one swift motion, but unlike yesterday there was urgency, the way he gripped her to him possessive and needy. Without breaking the kiss she reached behind her and unhooked the clasp of her bra with steady hands, letting it join her shirt on the floor.

For a moment, sitting there at her most vulnerable, nerves began to clatter in her head. She was afraid the faces of her nightmares would make an appearance and destroy another intimate moment no matter how fiercely she begged them to stay away. Daryl sensed her hesitation and paused, hands freezing in their eager exploration of her bare skin while his dark eyes searched her face for the slightest hint of discomfort or memory-induced panic.

"Okay?" He asked.

Beth held her breath, waiting for the cozy room to fade into a hallway lined with doors that smelled like bleach and despair, for Daryl's worried expression and cautious grip to morph into Gorman's lecherous smirk or Dawn's cold, empty stare. She waited for the feelings of love and safety being tangled in Daryl's arms gave her to disappear in a flurry of disembodied screams from women being raped behind closed doors, for this moment she wanted to have so badly to be tainted again by the horrors of her past.

But nothing came.

A soft laugh bubbled out of her and she exhaled, jerking her head in a relieved nod. She wasn't so naive as to assume they were gone for good, but for now both the memories and the fear they inspired were a foggy, distant memory. She'd never felt more okay.

Reassured Daryl resumed their kissing, the muscles of his arms flexing as he held her to him with more force. She moved with him when he fell back against the pillows and rolled over, pinning her between him and the mattress.

She tried to hold onto the moment, to memorize everything about it: the weight of his body spread over hers and the heat of his skin, the feel of the puckered scars slashing across his back under her fingertips, how every place he kissed or touched burned and made that red-hot coil in her belly tighten. He looked down at her, a corner of his mouth lifting in a barely-there-Daryl-smile and she felt whatever lingering doubts she'd had about this decision disperse like dust in the wind.

Somewhere, in another life that hadn't been torn apart by walkers and decay, Beth knew the girl she used to be was still there, living her carefree life with all of its simplistic joys. If she closed her eyes she could see her clear as day: washing dishes beside her mother after dinner, singing with the church choir on Sundays, sneaking kisses with uncomplicated Georgia farm boys in the hayloft. She was always clean, always safe, surrounded by people that she loved and couldn't imagine living without.

That Beth lived a comfortable, normal life, a life that would never have to know the constant and terrible ache of loss. Beth felt only pity for her. Because that Beth would never know Daryl. She would never know a happiness so raw and real it almost didn't seem fair that she got to experience it. That Beth would never know the depth of love and life she was missing.

Whatever pain was coming—tomorrow, a year, five minutes from now—she was grateful it would come from Daryl. She loved him with everything that she was despite the fact that it was never going to be easy and it would never be quite what she'd imagined. Tomorrow she'd let him go, but there in that moment tomorrow was a distant future she didn't have to face.

She threw her arms around him and held on tight.


	29. First Goodbye

Dawn broke, its light a soft, yielding gold. It shimmered through the bare panes in Daryl's little window, casting a solitary square of buttery light across the middle of the bed and their entwined bodies. Beth admired the way the light bent: curving over her hip, stretching flat across the planes of Daryl's stomach, adjusting its angle as it climbed the wall on his other side.

The bed was an island of warmth and in it she felt loose and lazy, like a cat willingly trapped in a sunbeam. Daryl's imminent departure was a dark, snarly cloud looming over their entwined bodies but Beth steadfastly ignored it, listening instead to the steady beat of his heart under her ear and watching the weak, glittering beams of light push the darkness to the far corners of the room. In every breath that she breathed in and he breathed out there was a delicate, tenuous peace, and she was determined to soak up every drop before it was gone.

Daryl was the first to break the silence.

"I got something for you," he said. Beth smiled into the low rumble reverberating through his chest and tightened her hold across his waist.

"You're the one who's going away. Aren't I supposed to give you the present?"

His fingers trailed whisper-light down her back, a trail of goosebumps sprouting on her bare skin in their wake and he chuckled. "You did," he said.

Beth's smile widened as moments from the night before flashed through her mind. A warm, rosy flush that was equal parts embarrassment and desire spread over her cheeks.

Reluctantly she sat up and he reached behind her, his long arm stretching across the narrow mattress and digging around in the nightstand drawer. He sat back up and in his hand was a circular strip of something brown.

"I, um… made it," he said, depositing the object into her open palm. "For you. Since you never got your other ones back at the hospital."

It was a bracelet made of soft, chestnut colored leather. Daryl had cut the original piece into strips and woven it together to create a seamless braid about an inch wide, securing the ends with a simple slipknot that would tighten or loosen the bracelet as needed. The handful of bracelets she'd taken to wearing after her half-hearted suicide attempt had not been returned with her street clothes at the hospital. Beth suspected they had been filched by a cop or two hoping to use them to woo their unwilling victims. The bracelets themselves weren't anything special, merely a means of covering up something she would rather forget. However she'd grown used to their presence on her wrist and missed the weight of them sliding up and down her arm.

Beth trailed a finger over the smooth ridges. She could feel his fingers weaving it together, the care and intention in each cut and knot. A golf ball sized lump rose in her throat. No one had ever done anything like it for her before, and the thoughtfulness of the gift momentarily erased any and all words she could think to say.

Beside her Daryl shifted and mumbled down at his lap, "It ain't… I mean you don't have to wear it."

She fixed him with a look. "Stop."

Beth slipped it on and turned her wrist for Daryl to pull tight over the thin red scar. The gentle weight of it on her skin made her feel safe, like a part of him was right there on her wrist. Before he could pull away she entwined their fingers and pressed the back of his hand to her lips.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Daryl bit the corner of his lip and nodded before letting their joined hands fall to the bed. Beth leaned forward, her heart swelling with love for him, and their lips met, tangling in a slow, lazy kiss.

She would have been perfectly content to sit there kissing Daryl in his bed for the rest of her life. But no sooner had the thought drifted through her mind than three short raps on the bedroom door accompanied by Carol's muffled voice broke them apart.

"Daryl, Aaron said to tell you he'll meet you at the gate in ten," she said. "And don't even think about sneaking out of here without eating something. I heated up some breakfast for you; it's on the counter by the sink. I'll be back in fifteen minutes and I expect to see an empty plate in its place when I go back in there."

She didn't wait for a reply and her quick steps faded down the hall. Daryl rolled his eyes.

"Well," he said when the quiet had resumed.

Beth gave his hand a squeeze. "Okay," she replied.

They dressed in silence, exchanging shirts and socks and underwear scattered thoughtlessly across the floor the night before. Beth sat on the edge of the unmade bed, her eyes following Daryl around the small room as he prepared his pack and his bow. She clutched the still warm sheets in her pale hands, trying to keep the ache of sadness spreading throughout her body from showing up on her face.

She had thought, having said and done everything she could possibly do or say the night before, that she would feel more prepared, more willing to see him go. But she wasn't.

Down in the kitchen Carol had prepared last night's leftovers for Daryl's breakfast, a plate of lukewarm, peppered venison shredded in a heaping pile alongside fancy, whole grain crackers from the community pantry. Beth watched with a bemused smile as he shoveled the meal into his mouth with his fingers, ignoring the fork and napkin entirely. When his back was turned at the sink, Beth slipped three of Carol's beet and acorn cookies into a wrinkled paper bag and tucked them away in his backpack, knowing he would refuse them if she handed them to him directly.

Daryl had parked his newly assembled bike at the curb in front of the house. It was a fearsome looking bike with fat tires and a red leather seat. Beth supposed it was less elegant than the chopper he'd had back on the farm, but there was a kind of beauty in how all of its mismatched and unpainted parts came together so cohesively. Like they were made for one another. The fact that it looked like it could be driven through a tornado was also an added bonus.

Frost clung to the tall grass and crunched under Beth's boots as they made their way across the lawn toward it. Daryl wrapped his hands around the handles and kicked the stand up with his heel. To her surprise, he proceeded to push the bike in the direction of the front gate rather than mount it. She walked along on the other side, pleased with the extra handful of minutes the slower method of travel gave them.

Birdsong filled the air as they made their way through Alexandria's quiet, empty streets, the cheerful sound at odds with the stormy feelings building in her chest. The crisp air burned her lungs and, thinking longingly of the warm bed they'd just left, Beth shivered. She hoped it would warm soon, otherwise Daryl was going to freeze.

They were the last to arrive; Eric was there with Aaron, as well as Rick, Deanna, and her sister. Together the five of them poured over a beat up map, listening intently as Aaron explained the decided upon routes and contingency plans she assumed he and Daryl had made together. Their eyes lifted as Beth and Daryl approached and Rick nodded in greeting, but the little group left them alone.

They came to a full stop. For a moment Daryl focused solely on his bike, kneeling down to give it a final once over and tightening the straps of the bags under his seat. When he was finished he straightened out of his crouch and made his way around the bike toward her. Beth stepped into his open arms, grabbing fistfuls of his jacket and burying her nose into the layers of leather and flannel covering his chest.

"Be safe," Daryl said.

Immediately tears welled in her eyes and she screwed them shut to keep the tears from falling. Of course he would tell her to be safe when he was the one risking his life by leaving. She raised herself up on her tiptoes and kissed him hard and long, not caring in the least who saw or what they thought about it. Her only thought was to make it count, hoping he couldn't taste the sadness on her tongue.

Behind her the inner gate rattled as it was slid open and the car's rumble broke through the quiet, the final signal that their time was up. Beth reached up to brush the hair out of his eyes-the motion familiar and oddly comforting-and bit her lip.

"Come back to me," Beth said, her voice soft and hoarse with emotion.

Daryl nodded, a silent promise. He leaned down for another kiss, his fingers curling tightly around the back of her neck. Before she could lose herself in it he was gone, turning away from her and pushing his bike to join Aaron at the gate. Empty of him, her hands flexed at her sides.

No one paid her any mind as she scampered up the main gate's watch post, the rickety ladder creaking softly under her weight. Below, Daryl finished his goodbyes and swung his leg over his bike. It roared to life under his hands and Beth couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, her dark, surly man, god of oil and rubber and muscled metal.

She watched him drive off behind Aaron's rusty red car, pieces of his patchwork bike glistening in the early morning sun. Already she could feel the hole he'd left behind, a cocktail of worry, fear, and longing surging inside of it as he drove off, growing smaller and smaller while the growl of his bike faded like an echo into the surrounding woods. She felt for the bracelet newly tied around her wrist, grazing her fingertips over the ridges of the braid, assuring herself that he would come back to her. Because he always had before, because he loved her. Because this time he'd promised he would.

With a sigh she stole a quick peek at the community behind her. The sky was soft and pale, like old, yellowed lace, and the sun shone off the uniform grey rooftops and through the bare branches of the surrounding trees. On the ground individuals walked the streets with purposeful steps as they headed to their respective meetings or jobs, some holding mugs that trailed wisps of steam behind them, others with their hands shoved in the warmth of their pockets.

Beth knew she should join them. After all there were lesson plans to prepare and children to teach, wounds to mend and meals to cook, the ratio of tasks to minutes in the day quickly growing more and more uneven. She offered up one last glance to the road in front of her to find Daryl was no bigger than her thumbnail before squaring her shoulders and beginning her descent down the wall.

Today was a new day, and a gift she refused to squander.

* * *

Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed this story. It was so much fun to write, and I really enjoyed hearing what you had to say about it. I hope you're satisfied with the ending!

A sequel of sorts is in the works, although it is in the beginning stages and not in any kind of concrete shape. But keep an eye out for it. (:

Until next time,

kaitiebee


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